


Night

by celluloid



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Astronomy, Best Friends, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:49:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloid/pseuds/celluloid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The year is 2009, and Jim and Bones are looking up at the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was written during a roughly five week period back in the summer of 2009 following a ton of stargazing. It's long and there isn't much plot to speak of, just a pure friendship fic.

Bones has been here before. Only once, to be fair, but in his opinion, that was one time too many already. Now it’s been two times. He doesn’t know what happens when it gets to three, doesn’t really want to think about it. He’d rather just believe that it never will actually get there. He’d like to maintain just a bit of faith and stray away from this part of life in general, because he doesn’t like it.

He hates the building and he hates its interiors and he hates waiting for processing after he’s shelled out his money, on convenient loan, not to his benefit at all but for someone else’s. If he looks through the doors, beyond his reach, not that he has any desire to, he can see the faded yellow print in brick pattern, stained and old and in dire need of being replaced. Or at least a paint job. On other nights he probably would have heard various cat calls and shouting, but he got lucky tonight – or, well, as lucky as he could be to even be here in the first place. Still, two senses of his are violated; sight and while not hearing, smell, because yeah, that’s definitely urine. Fuck this place.

He backs away, observing the money – his money – disappear, and watches the doors, looks in on the other side. Bones is trying to determine how he should posture himself in order to communicate the emotions he’s feeling in proportionate amounts. There’s definitely anger, because after an exhausting day, he does not appreciate being roused out of his bed by a ringing that drills itself into his skull and reverberates there, accumulating with each beat, at a time past midnight. It’s summer and it’s San Francisco and it’s dark and he’s finding it cold and unpleasant. Jesus, he should be wrapped up in a thick blanket right now, incased in darkness, head resting comfortably on an overly-soft pillow. And sure, he’d still be disheveled, but at least he’d be cozy. And his mind would be pleasantly numbed, hopefully, from that alone, since he was too tired to even pour himself a bourbon. Or anything. He lost two people today. Pregnant woman and her unborn child. He wants to forget the world right now.

Instead he let himself get roped in on this, again, and even though the world still feels heavy on his shoulders he obliged, slipped on an old and worn bomber jacket, ratty jeans, and was halfway there by the time he realized that he was actually still wearing the short-sleeved light blue scrubs from his shift. Still too late to do anything about that, though, so whatever. He knows he looks like shit – he doesn’t quite feel like shit, he’s maybe halfway there – and maybe like he does belong in this place, on this side of the doors (quite possibly the other, at some point, if this keeps up), and he wonders what that says about him now.

Anger is here. Bones also feels tired and frustrated and completely unimpressed, though he doubts that his disapproving stare will have any affect. He leans back up against a wall, across from the doors, ensuring that he’s still mostly upright, because he is a little taller than the kid and wants to use the slight difference in height to his advantage as much as he can. He folds his arms across his chest and stares out, only one eye really seeing what it’s looking at. His eyes are narrowed and brows furrowed, though, lips pursed, and figures that he’s at least doing a passable job of looking unhappy while his body language is a mixture of sleep deprivation and fury. 

Bones tells himself that if he didn’t have the day off tomorrow – today, it’s like one AM – then there was no way in hell he would have come. He’d have let the phone ring, let the machine get it, and then not give a shit about the voice on the other end and just curl into a tighter ball, fighting the stomach cramps. And then he’d fall back asleep and only rise when his alarm went off. Except he does have the day off, so he never set the alarm, and it doesn’t matter how tired he’s going to be tomorrow today. 

Yes. If he didn’t have the day off, then he wouldn’t have come. Bones mulls this over, well aware that he doesn’t even know if this is true. There’s maybe a fifty-fifty chance. Is that what you do when you have a grand total of one friend? Pathetic. He runs a hand through his hair, which is sticking up in odd places, attempting to flatten it down, and continues to wait.

He really hates this place. Confining and restricting and he has no place being here. He’s pretty sure he’d be eaten alive if he were to ever step on the other side, and makes a mental note to never become the victim of a malpractice suit. Vaguely, he wonders how the kid is faring, then, but stops when he reminds himself that he hates him. Which is exactly why he just spent $250 as bail money. Oh, he’ll get it back, he knows, but he really can’t afford to keep on doing this. Just because he’s a doctor doesn’t make him rich. And he sure as hell isn’t a bank. 

Fuck this place. Fuck you, Jim. Really now. What does happen when strike two turns to strike three? Bones knows he’ll just end up coming back, and repeating all of this, and when it’s strike four five six he’ll still be there. He knows this on a vague, subconscious level because he isn’t quite ready to actually acknowledge it. Not just yet. He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to resign himself to the fact that yeah, this is him right now, and don’t you just love it? What’s there to love? he asks.

And what the fuck is taking so long? Government-run, he knows, but his cynicism can only account for so much. It’s not like there’s anybody else here waiting to bail their buddies out. Whether it’s because there isn’t anybody else behind those doors needing it, or because those buddies are wholly undeserving of being let loose on the streets again, or because those buddies just have shitty buddies themselves who won’t come and pick them up, he doesn’t know, but he’s starting to think that maybe he could become a shitty buddy, lose the one person left in his life, and let it become a mindless, dull repeating routine of work-sleep-work-sleep. It could be beautiful. Jesus fuck, he is tired.

And in no mood when he looks up, finally hearing footsteps, and seeing Jim Kirk being lead through by a female guard. Oh, Christ, and he’s actually trying to lean in on her. Bones just buries his face in the palm of his hand rather than watch the all-too-commonplace spectacle of Jim making an ass of himself in front of, well, any human being, as Jim beams at the guard and bats his eyes (yeah, what gender are you again?) at her, and worse yet, Jesus, she actually smiles back at him. God damn this kid. At least the officer sitting behind the desk has the good grace to look bored and unimpressed. Bones decides that maybe this isn’t so bad, because he likes her. 

Bones decides that maybe this is so bad, because Jim has finally turned his attention over to him. “Bones!” he cries, joyously, and stumbles over to him. Bones removes his palm from his face and looks back up, hoping that the icy, tired glare will be enough to stop Jim in his tracks. Of course it isn’t. He can smell alcohol reeking off of Jim, his clothes, his person, his… breath as Jim comes up and _hugs_ Bones. Oh god, he’s actually hugging him. Bones stiffens and stares straight ahead, figuring that it’s probably best for Jim to get the affection out of him like this before it gets any worse. He closes his eyes in exasperation and hears the first female guard giggle and he hates himself.

“Jim,” he replies, voice low, even, with just a hint of a growl in the tone. “Get off of me.”

Jim obliges, pulling back but leaving his hands on the sides of Bones’ shoulders. They regard one another and Bones notes just how bloodshot the kid’s eyes are. Great. That’s just great. Did he really expect anything different? And he can smell the intoxicating fumes just from Jim’s simple breathing. Still. Which isn’t a surprise. Oh, lord. Not to mention the ruffled appearance. By all accounts, Jim actually does look better than him, and that’s including the blood spatters marring the grey t-shirt. 

“Bones,” Jim says again, snapping the older man out of his reverie. “You look like shit,” he slurs. Then, “Thanks for coming.” Bones is afraid for a moment that Jim is going to lean in for another hug, but he just slips forward instead, and Bones catches him.

“Fuck you,” he growls out. It’s both friendly teasing and genuine frustration, said in a way that only Bones could manage. Jim laughs and rights himself, clapping Bones on the shoulder. “Okay,” Bones adds on, “let’s get out of here. Is it safe to drop you off at your place or do I have to bring you back to mine to make sure you sleep on your side?”

Jim grabs Bones to use as a crutch as they start to make their way out. He turns his head back around over his shoulder and winks. “See ya, _Officer_ Gaila,” he calls out, enunciating ‘Officer’ as if this is some inside joke between the two of them. _Officer_ Gaila giggles behind them and Bones doesn’t have to turn around to know that she’s actually waving. “That’s Officer Gaila,” Jim tells Bones as they exit the room and make their way to the front of the station. “Gaila something. I dunno her last name. She’s hot, though.” He pauses, as if in deep thought. “I’d fuck her.”

“You’d fuck anything,” Bones mutters in response. Jim pulls away from him, face a picture of mock indignation and hurt.

“I would not!” he cries out, earning a glare from Bones that clearly says _either shut the fuck up or at least quiet the fuck down_. Jim takes a tentative step forwards and nods in satisfaction when he finds himself able to walk on his own just fine. “I would not,” he repeats, voice quieter this time as he catches up with Bones, who had stopped to wait for him.

“Jim,” Bones sighs, “I have pictures, remember?”

Jim furrows his brow. “No,” he says.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Remind me to show you sometime. Just as soon as I have an adequate number of backup copies. You’ll love it, I’m sure.”

As the two make their way across the lobby of the police station, it becomes evident that while Jim is fairly drunk, he isn’t nearly as drunk as they had thought at first. He waves to the officer posted at a desk by the entrance, and the officer just raises an eyebrow at him in response. Jim turns away, back towards the front doors and Bones, and grins when Bones just stares at him. “What?” he asks, cheekily.

Bones just shakes his head. “You. Just… you,” he says and opens the door, holding it open for Jim. 

Jim saunters out and stops himself right before the steps, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes against the streetlights, or something, as he looks around. “Where’d ya park?” he queries, squinting his eyes and trying to see through the dark.

“Off to the side,” Bones says as he passes Jim, trusting his friend to be able to follow him down the steps just fine as he takes them at a rapid pace. Since he hears the echoing footsteps, he assumes everything’s just fine. He reaches the ground level and turns left, not looking back as he comes to a stop in front of a fairly modest, if not small, car in the adjacent parking lot. He pauses at the driver’s door, keys in hand, waiting for Jim to catch up with him.

Jim does, walking in a mostly straight line as he makes his way over to the passenger’s side. “Am I going to have to give you a ride in the morning to pick up your bike?” Bones asks.

“What?” Jim looks up from where he’s trying to open the side door that’s still locked, meeting Bones’ eyes.

Bones sighs and places his arms across the roof of his car, leaning on it as his legs stretch out back a little. “Did you take your bike to the bar? Am I going to have to give you a ride there when you’re sober enough to drive?”

“Oh. Ah, no,” Jim replies, bringing his arms back to his sides. “I walked. Trying to be green. You know?” He grins. Bones scowls.

“Green. Yeah. Right. Alright. That’s just great,” he mutters, removing his arms from the roof and inserting the key, unlocking the driver’s door. He pulls it open and presses the switch on the interior to unlock the rest of the doors, then settles himself into his seat, closes the door, and puts the keys in the ignition. Jim follows suit, entering the car and taking up residence in the seat next to Bones’. He remembers enough to put his seatbelt on, and Bones starts the car up, the older engine coming to life.

“It’s important to be green, you know,” Jim starts as Bones is looking over his shoulder and putting the car into reverse. “The environment, and all that. Very important.” He nods sagely.

Bones doesn’t respond until they’re out on the road, and then he turns to look at Jim and snaps out, “Shut the fuck up,” voice devoid of anything that could be interpreted as a playful tone.

Jim just looks back at his friend. “What?”

“No,” Bones snaps before Jim has the chance to say anything else. “Shut the fuck up. As long as you’re in here, you aren’t allowed to talk.” His eyes glance over to his side to see Jim opening his mouth again. “Save it,” he says before the younger man has any chance to utter a sound. “I’m not interested in hearing anything. Sit there and be quiet.” He may or may not be gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly now. “I’m serious. Don’t even start.”

“I—“

“ _Jim._ ”

“—just wanted to say thanks,” Jim mutters, staring down at his scuffed shoes. They’re resting atop the car’s barren floor. Hell, the entire car is barren; the only things actually in it are Bones, Jim, and the car’s registration. Jim risks a glance back up, but the camaraderie he’d been hoping for isn’t there. It hasn’t been tonight at all. So – Bones is pissed, and Jim isn’t sure what he is, exactly, other than at an utter loss. That and sobering up, because this is extremely unpleasant, and while Jim may have a problem with understanding the concept of regretting one’s own actions, he’s certainly getting a lesson in it right now.

Bones stops at a red light in far too sudden and jerky a manner, and it’s a damn good thing there aren’t really many other cars out here right now. At least not with people in them. Bones snaps his gaze away from the road and whips his head around to glare at Jim, and he lets go of the steering wheel to bang back down on it with all of his hands, not just his fingers curled around the outer edges. He avoids the horn. “What is it, Jim?” he snaps, bringing his hands back to their familiar position. At least the kid is looking at him now. “You want to thank me for bailing you out again? For becoming your own personal enabler?”

The light turns green and Bones slams his foot down on the accelerator, pulling them both forwards at far too fast a pace before he suddenly relents and they slow down. Bones takes a breath and resumes driving in a manner that isn’t erratic at all.

“You want to treat this as your own little drunken joke? Fine. That’s just fine. I don’t care what you do to yourself. That’s your choice. Just as long as you don’t hurt anyone else – and as it stands, you’re hurting me right now. Damn it, Jim, I’m not coming again at one in the fucking morning.” 

“Okay,” Jim says, voice soft.

“No. Shut the fuck up. You aren’t allowed to talk,” Bones breathes, his own voice softening now, losing the sharp edges from before. “You’re just going to keep saying ‘okay’, but none of this is actually going to get through to you, and how long do you think you can live like this? You’re twenty-five. You’re already pushing the limit, as is. Trust me, you’re getting too old for this shit. Any longer and this is going to become the rest of your life, and you know what, that isn’t going to last much longer at this rate. It’s only going to escalate.”

The two of them stare out across the expanse of the empty road before them together, black asphalt with dotted white lines and solid yellow ones and street lights bordering the limits of their boundary. They breathe quietly, and the car’s engine hums along gently, but the relative silence doesn’t bring much peace with it. Jim flicks his eyes over to his friend’s face, still unsure if Bones is done talking, even though it’s been a few minutes. He looks painfully unkempt, and there are heavy bags under his eyes. Dark stubble is becoming more prominent, and the lips are parted slightly, absently, as though Bones can’t feel them. Jim wonders if he even meant to say what he did out loud, or if it was just supposed to be an internal rant; and if the latter is the case, then how long has that been going on for? Sure, this is only his second arrest – _only_ , as if that’s something he should be proud of, because Bones is six years older than he is and not once has he landed himself on the inside of a jail cell – but he’s come close plenty of times before, with Bones present at most of them. And it hasn’t exactly been pretty. It’s not the kind of thing one ever really expects to be.

Jim redirects his gaze back to the road, but averts it immediately and goes further to stare out the passenger window, watching the street lights’ beams coming up, engulfing him, and then fading back away endlessly. He starts, visibly, when Bones sighs.

“Whatever – I’m just going to drop you back off at your apartment. Drink some water and go to sleep and don’t bug me again,” he says as he adjusts the turn signal, left, and stops at another red light, even though nobody else is on the road and neither of them can see any headlights approaching.

“Wait,” Jim says, randomly grabbing for Bones’ arm. Bones fixes him a look. “I—please don’t,” he says, rather pathetically, but at least he’s fairly sober now, right? He clearly isn’t dicking around in his speech anymore. “Bones, I don’t want to go home right now.”

“Tough,” Bones grunts. “Because I’m ready to go back to an empty expanse myself, and it wouldn’t be too empty if you were there, now would it?”

“Bones, please,” he tries again.

“And I’m the one driving,” Bones continues on over Jim’s whimpering protests. “When you’re the one driving – which is when you aren’t the one drunk, or sitting in jail, or whatever else it is I’m sure you’ll come up with – then you can pick where I end up and where you end up. Until then, you’re my bitch. No, scratch that, you’re my bitch until I get my fucking money back.” His fingers tap the steering wheel irritably. “And you’re damn well going to do what I say, because it is too late to argue, and I’m fucking tired, you asshole. Let go of my arm.”

Jim does so, slowly, hesitantly. He wants to tell Bones that he’s absolutely right, that it is totally reasonable and fair and he has no right to impose or object to his best friend’s wishes, but something inside him – _him_ , as a person, not as a result of some substance or another – curls up in the corner and feels sick, vomits at the prospect of going home. 

“I just,” Jim tries once more, and hurries his words out in a rush when it looks like Bones is about to get all sanctimonious on him again. “Please. You aren’t busy tomorrow, are you? Could we just… go somewhere else? Outside? Away?” The light turns green, but they remain where they are. “I just… I just, don’t want to face the real world right now.”

Bones stares at Jim for a moment longer, then turns his head back to the road in front of him, the lights telling him he’s free to move along. He eases the car forwards before pulling a sudden U-turn, sending Jim flying towards him, really pushing up against the seat belt. The wheels screech a little as the turn signal is turned off and Bones speeds along in the opposite direction, going back over the road curving around the hills that he’d just passed over. “City limits are closer if we just turn around,” is all he says by means of an explanation, and Jim stops gawking at him to settle himself, readjusting his seatbelt with something that’s not quite, but almost, a smile on his lips. “And you still aren’t allowed to talk.” A weak afterthought.

Really, Bones only does it because he doesn’t want to face the real world right now, either. And he isn’t so tired that he can’t drive. Nobody else is out here, anyway. Everyone is sane and in their beds, in their homes, asleep right now. It only makes sense that he’s out here with the insane doing something else insane and completely stupid. Because really. What the hell?

Jim leans back in his seat, comfortable with looking out the front windshield again, resuming a neutral position and feeling a little less like a hindrance to Bones. Though he damn well knows that he is one. He decides that maybe, at least for now, honouring his best friend’s wishes to keep his mouth shut would be a smart idea, especially considering all that Bones has done for him – hell, even looking at tonight only, not their past three years of friendship, Bones has done more than enough to deserve Jim’s undying obedience. But the silence is still awkward, and Jim really feels like he should say something, to make some kind of conversation, but not right now. He just sits there and isn’t sure what to do with his hands. Nothing noticeable. He should really be more like a ghost right now, he reasons.

His mind is still a little fogged up but not so much that he’s completely clueless. For example, Bones is his own personal enabler. Bones can lecture all he wants but yet, he still comes. Jim isn’t sure if he’d define Bones as an enabler, though; however, he _is_ afraid of pushing their friendship. Never before in his life had he been able to feel any kind of personal connection with anyone; people were there either to service him, or for him to service. Life didn’t suck by any means, and he certainly didn’t want to end it, or anything, but it was still hollow. And unpleasant to someone who was so fairly full of it. He doesn’t even know how it ended up that Bones could suddenly fill up this entire well, but for whatever reason that was, he knows he can’t lose that. _That_ would be the end of him.

And he has no desire to hurt Bones. Jim wasn’t even really thinking about that – he just, something in him just told him to go out and do it. Lose himself, pick a fight, inflict pain and then let it consume him. Suffer. Sitting here now, though, he has no idea what it was that really drove him to do that, why he did it, and sitting here now, he can fully see and understand Bones’ point of view. That doesn’t make it any easier to stop, though, nor does it stop his desire to try to defend himself in any way he can, even though he already knows, in advance, that he’s lost the argument.

It’s really just a matter of keeping himself in check when it does come to defending himself, because, yeah… This is already too much. He can’t explain what it is in him that makes him act out and do stupid things like this. As if there’s something calculated, an essential part of his genetic code put into him to make him believe that there is nobody out there, absolutely nobody, that could tolerate him – and he does do a pretty good job of proving this to himself – that would willingly spend a decent amount of time with him, so he pushes them away to make sure that this is true. The only problem is, this hasn’t happened with Bones, and even though most of the time Bones acts like this is the truth, it’s just him acting, and in reality, he can keep on going.

Jim risks a glance away from neutrality and out the side of his window, seeing the street lights fast becoming the only source of light as they move away from the city’s interior and along a path towards its outskirts, as buildings dwindle and nature begins to take over, little as it may. That they’re going somewhere where Jim wouldn’t need to push anyone away, because there is nobody else there, nobody he actually _can_ push away, aside from the man sitting to his left. 

So Jim needs people to push away, he muses, just as Bones needs people to fret over. And by being pushed away, by being tested, Bones gets his excuse to intrude in on Jim’s life, to find out if there’s anything wrong and if there is, what it is that he can do to help. Bones is a doctor – it’s in his nature to help. Maybe not his general disposition, but in his nature, an undeniable part of him. And it’s exactly the opposite of what Jim should want, so that’s probably why he wants it so badly, because if there’s nothing else he’s good at, it’s contradictions. He feels built up by them. So the two are able to make it work.

Up ahead Bones sees lights turn from green to yellow, and he’s too far back, so upon getting closer he starts to decelerate and brake, stopping at red. He sits there, completely unsure of where it is, exactly, that they’re going, and yet they’re still going. He still has no idea what he’s doing out here when he could have gone to forget the world in the comfort and warmth of his own home, with or without Jim there, whatever it was that was going to happen… He could have lost himself again so easily and just slept the day away.

When the light turns and they start to move forward again, Bones breaks the silence that had been plaguing them for the past twenty minutes. “And I’ve just decided. You aren’t allowed to drink anymore.”

“Look who’s talking,” Jim snorts, and it comes natural, easy.

“Oh. Oh, no,” Bones says, taking his eyes off of the road to look at the kid beside him, the one that now has a light smile playing across his features. “I’m not going to be lectured about being a drunk by someone who actually _is_ completely intoxicated.”

“Well, I’m not anymore,” Jim replies, folding his bare arms over his chest and shivering a little. “You did a pretty good job of curing that.”

Bones allows himself a small smile. “Yeah, well, what can I say,” he drawls, gesturing a little with one of his arms. He sees Jim flip him off from his peripheral vision. “You’re welcome.”

“Fuck you.”

“There’s only so much praise I can take, Jim.”

“That isn’t true. I’ve seen you in action. Your ego knows no bounds.”

“You’re confusing the two of us again,” Bones says, turning the wheel to follow the road’s curves, feeling much more comfortable in the back-and-forth the two have suddenly found themselves engaged in. “Some might find it flattering. I don’t.”

“You really should,” Jim persists. “I’ve been told I have several good qualities.”

“Name one.”

Jim taps a finger on his chin, mock-thoughtful. “I’m pretty.”

Bones rolls his eyes and snorts. “You keep telling yourself that. You’ll only be hearing it from yourself as long as that black eye is there.”

“Hey,” Jim says, “I can make a black eye look _incredibly_ sexy.”

Bones glances over. “You’re right.”

“Really?”

“Not a chance.”

“Bones,” Jim whines, and Bones cringes a little at the way his nickname is being said, “you’re hurting my feelings.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Bones mumbles, distracted, taking into account their surroundings. There are very few buildings around them, and it’s mostly an expanse of empty highway that is in front of them now. Of course there are the rolling hills, the occasional tree, lots of rocks. It’s dark, very dark, and he’s completely dependent on the car’s headlights now to see just what there is in front of him. Which is, of course, nothing, because it’s incredibly early in the morning, not that a lot of people feel the need to come out this far to begin with. The surroundings are bland and empty. He has no idea where they are.

“Hey,” Jim says, nudging Bones in the side. Bones looks over to his right and sees Jim staring out his side window. “Turn off the road here, let’s just go over to that hill, it’s as good a spot as any.”

“For what?” Bones asks, even though he’s already reacting to Jim’s instructions.

Jim doesn’t take his eyes away from the window, though his head inclines upwards a little further. “To get out. Away. I don’t want to use up all of your gas just driving around aimlessly. You’d make me pay for it,” he says.

Bones sighs as he takes them off of the road, and the two of them start as they feel the change in the ground they’re travelling across, as it goes from smooth to uneven. They bump along, and Jim takes his eyes off of the passenger’s window in order to stare out the front again as Bones swears softly every now and then. They approach the hill, which is of a fairly decent size, being one of the taller ones in the area. It’s plain and empty, only covered in half-dead green-yellow grass with nothing else to grace it. Hardly anything special, and yet, Jim’s right, it’s as good a spot as any for… whatever it is they’re doing out here. Bones still isn’t sure, but Jim seems to have an idea, so he can decide. Until he chooses to do something insane, like light the entire thing on fire – which he wouldn’t put past him – then he has no problems following along. All he was going to do tonight was sleep, anyway. It’s not like he has plans.

He curves the car around the hill a little, and then flips it around so that it’s facing towards the road again. That’s when Bones finally stops, puts the vehicle into park, and leans back in his seat. “So, kid, what is it—“

Jim’s already leapt out of the front and has opened up the back door on his side. He’s crouched down low enough that Bones can hardly see his friend’s hair if he were to lean backwards far enough, which, no, he definitely isn’t doing. He glances over. “What are you…?”

Again, before he can form a complete question, Jim’s moved again, popping back up and out, closing the door. Bones sighs and finally unbuckles his own seatbelt, then takes the keys out of the ignition and exits. He closes his own door and sees Jim’s head disappear in the mass of a thick, brown hoodie. All he can really do is watch, a little transfixed – and a little sleep deprived, he reasons – at the wriggling upper body as arms and head get sorted out in the material. When the dirty blond head reemerges, Bones asks, “Where did that come from?” because he honestly has no idea.

Jim smiles lazily in return. “Been looking for this,” he says. “When I couldn’t find it I figured I’d left it in something of yours. Kinda lucky it was here, huh?”

“When did that…?”

“I have no idea,” Jim shrugs. “But it was behind the seat. I’m sorry it sullied the perfection that is the empty cleanliness of your car for so long, Bones.”

“I just thought I would have noticed at some point,” Bones says, ignoring the pseudo-barb behind the sentence. 

“Yeah, me too,” Jim grins. He suppresses another shiver. “Definitely lucky that it was here, though. It’s cold out. It’s less cold now.” He turns on his heels and walks around the car, stopping for just a moment to clap Bones on the shoulder when he reaches that particular side. “Come on, _Bonesy_ , let’s go up.”

“Bonesy,” Bones mutters under his breath, his feet taking just a little while to catch up with his brain before he moves to go catch up with his friend. “What’re we doing out here, Jim?”

“Escaping the world,” Jim answers, simply, finding the sentence fragment to be perfectly acceptable. He stuffs his hands into the front pockets of the hoodie as he works his stride to cover the increasing incline. Bones jogs up behind him, catching up. “Out here,” Jim continues, unprompted, withdrawing one hand from the pocket to gesture obscurely at their surroundings, “there’s nothing. We can do this out here.”

Bones huffs from Jim’s side, the two now having slowed from a light jog to a slightly uncomfortable walking pace. “I could do that better away from you,” he says.

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me,” Jim counters. “You’d be at home, surrounded by your memories in the forms of material possessions. And they aren’t all good. I’m sure just how impersonal you keep your stuff only serves as a reminder. At least here, there’s nothing. And you like me, so it’s not all bad.”

Bones just concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. He has to concede with Jim on one thing: it _is_ a truly effective spot for getting away. The only sounds, aside from their breathing, are the crickets, and climbing up this hill puts them at a place a little more above everything else. It elevates him, them, to look down around them, for once.

“And besides,” Jim continues, apparently having decided to make up for all of the not-talking he did when they were in the car, “this is calm. It’s relaxing. You don’t need anything else out here, you just… get caught up in it. I thought you’d appreciate that.”

“I do,” Bones admits, softly. He pauses. “It was… quiet, there, in the station,” he ventures. Jim doesn’t respond, just keeps quiet, and Bones isn’t sure if he should interpret that as a _go on_ silence, or a _shut the hell up_ silence. He goes for the former, because it’s calm and serene out here and probably the best place to discuss such issues. “What’s it like in there?”

“What time is it?” Jim asks almost as soon as the last word leaves Bones’ mouth.

Bones’ mouth quirks upwards, just a little. He pulls his left hand from his jacket’s pocket, flicking his wrist towards his eyes and he pushes the button on his watch so that it lights up with a greenish glow. “Three past two. AM,” he adds, unnecessarily. “You wouldn’t have to ask if you’d ditch the analogue and get a digital like everyone else. Stop deflecting, Jim.”

“I like the older stuff. It has a certain charm to it.”

“I mean it.”

Jim pulls away from Bones, nearly at the top of the hill. The two had been dawdling on it for a little while, casually making their way up, but now Jim is determined to get up there. Bones increases his own pace, and when they reach the top, Jim turns to look at him, locking eyes. “What? What do you want me to say, Bones?”

“I’d like you to answer the question,” Bones shrugs. “I answered yours.”

“They’re two completely different questions,” Jim snaps, getting a little flustered. “They aren’t remotely near the same magnitude. That’s unfair.”

“Then I get to ask you a trivial question later on and you can ask me a deeper one,” Bones replies, voice growing a little harder.

Jim takes a step forward, edging into Bones’ personal space, but the older man just stands there, undaunted. “You call that getting away from the world?” His eyes narrow and his posture goes rigid. “Asking something like that? That isn’t escaping. That’s bringing it right up to the surface. That’s completely not the point of us being out here. We should have just stayed in the city at this rate,” Jim bristles, his voice growing louder. 

Bones doesn’t feel the need to quiet him down, considering how alone they are out here and the only things likely to be bothered by Jim are coyotes, and even then. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and straightens himself, exerting the small bit of height he has on him. “Maybe,” he says, calmly, keeping his voice even, because there’s absolutely no need for this to become a shouting match, and it’s not really like him to do that, anyway. “But it needs to be talked about. Here and now is as a good a time and place as any.”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Jim huffs. “You did enough of that for the two of us on the way here.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bones replies. “I didn’t let you say anything. I want to hear it from your own mouth.”

Jim sighs and sits down on the grass, bringing his knees up to his chest. Bones follows suit after a moment, from looking down on his best friend to turning his head to look right at him while Jim keeps his own gaze focused straight ahead.

“It sucks,” Jim says, his voice having returned to a normal pitch. “Okay? It sucks and I don’t want to go back there. You happy?”

“Not really,” Bones prods, pushing further. Jim spares him a glance.

“Look,” he sighs, “I’m going to do my best to stay out of there. Really, really, Bones, I mean it this time. I don’t want to go back… I have no intentions of going back… I never really intended to go there in the first place, I just.” Jim stops, runs a hand through his hair. “It’s small and confining and hopeless. It’s really hopeless. There isn’t anything to do in there; it’s boring as fuck, there’s nothing to strive towards or… anything. You just sit there and exist.

“You remember the first time?” Jim asks, and Bones nods, prompting him to continue. Jim sighs again, taking a moment to gather himself. “Yeah. It was a lot…louder, then. I had a cellmate, then. A couple. One was even further gone than I was. He was disgusting, couldn’t have showered recently, he kept trying to hump my leg like a dog. That was it. Just my leg. And the most… All you could hear in there were men yelling at each other, at the guards, every other word out of their mouth being some variant of the word ‘fuck’. Just a festering ground for stupidity.”

“You don’t belong in there,” Bones cuts in.

Jim huffs. “You’re damn right I don’t. I’m above that shit, I know it, I just… Something about the dirt. I don’t know. I don’t like it but it’s what I grew up in, it’s what I… The first time. I fought my way against it, even when cuffed, when first being lead to the cell, and then in there, just, once I was put in there… I tried to keep myself at the front, away. Try to get a little area for myself, where I wouldn’t be approached, because I’m completely out of my league there. Some of those motherfuckers are really dangerous, Bones. I can’t compete with that. That time was just about surviving.

“This time, though…” His voice trails off, his eyes going a little distant before he turns back to look at Bones, gives a lazy smile. “It was just… empty. Not a popular night, I guess, but I was pretty alone in there. A couple of guys in other cells sleeping, sure, but that hardly counts. No. There was just… nothing. 

“I waited a while before calling. Really, I did, don’t roll your eyes at me, Bones. It was only after that that the girl officer, you know, the one who—Gaila, that she and I got to chatting, because we were both just there, alone and with nothing to do and no real direction, but. Bones. Thank you for coming.”

Bones is the first to break the gaze, directing his own downwards, instead. “Yeah, well,” he mumbles, “don’t go around mentioning it or anything.”

The two of them sit there for a moment longer in silence, only hearing the relentless chirping around them. Jim falls over onto his back and he stretches his legs out, tucks his arms underneath his head, and stares upwards. “I’m not saying this is going to happen,” he starts, and Bones glances over, “but if I were to wind up in some place more… permanent.” He licks his lips. “Would you visit me?”

“No,” Bones snaps, a little too quickly, and both of them can hear the ‘probably’ under the harsher word. Neither acknowledges this.

“You’re an idiot for making yourself experience all of this, anyway,” Bones starts up again. “You need to—hell, I don’t know. Find some direction. Make some goals. Work on achieving them. Stop thinking so little of yourself, because you—“

“Bones,” Jim interrupts. Bones twists his neck over his shoulder to catch Jim’s eyes, but they aren’t looking up to meet with his own. They’re looking up at something much higher, much greater, on a much grander scale than he or anyone could ever hope to occupy. It only makes sense that they’re what can actually catch the attention of Jim Kirk. Bones tilts his own head upwards, looking up at the expanse, so empty and wide and free. “Isn’t it beautiful.”

Bones doesn’t answer, not that Jim minds, because Jim is caught up in the sight, anyway. His eyes flit over the above, focusing on every little detail, every little sector of sky, all at the same time, and he knows why he wanted to come out here. No light pollution. Or very, very little of it, at least. He can get a clear view with nothing there to obstruct it; as far as he knows, it’s just him, Bones, the grass he’s on top of and the sky he’s underneath.

He takes in the darkness, broken up only by the little pinpoints of light scattered out, across his entire field of vision. He’s angled himself so that he can’t see anything else. His eyes are far above the horizon, instead inspecting the night and whatever it is that lies beyond it, a clear area that he can just now see only because the star everyone knows is on his opposite side, through an entire planet.

It’s unexplored, mapped out into animals and others through an abstract means thousands of years ago only. But nobody has ventured out there, to confirm that these animals exist, instead restricted, back, left only to look and not touch because the latter isn’t possible yet. And until it is, he’ll just have to content himself with the former. It isn’t enough but it’s something, at least, to have the map memorized. 

Placing it is an entirely different matter, however. He’s stared up at the sky long enough to be able to recognize quite a few patterns instantaneously; others, he needs to concentrate and be certain. Because on paper the borders are explicitly clear, but looking up at the real thing, it’s much less clean and much more a clusterfuck. Everything’s melded together and if you aren’t careful enough with your eyesight you get the constellations confused, intruding in on one another’s stars, seeing them in a location where they actually aren’t. 

For the longest time his eyes were his own enemies. Not the only ones, but his most hated until he got them under control – because even though they forced him to look at the flat expanse of sheer _nothing_ that made up Iowa, at least they still allowed him to look up when it got dark and see _something_ , learn all of the _somethings_ , and if there’s one thing Jim ever put any real effort in – well, not so much one thing as a series of things, all relating to the same topic.

It’s more than a means of escape. It may have started out that way, something real, no matter how unreachable, to really strive towards that wasn’t a part of the fabrication he’d tried immersing himself in to bring a bit of interest to his life and fuck it up all the same… No, it’s something of great, unmatched beauty.

And it’s not quite his – not yet – but he has as much a claim to it as almost everybody else in this world, more than most, less than a few, but he fully intends to exert this and go and…

It’s up, is where it is. It’s unlimited. It’ll probably always be unlimited, but that’s no reason to not chart it out, to explore it, to record it and make more maps. After all, the ground he’s lying on right now was once uncharted, unexplored, part of a wild and cruel frontier. It was undiscovered – it became discovered – the same can, and will happen for what he sees up above, because as dark and empty as it may appear to be, the stars help to show that there’s more to it than that.

He looks for the current focal point, which is always a useful starting point. It’s the one he’s always used, the one he can find the fastest, because it only makes sense, and from there he can branch out. “There,” he says, pointing.

“There what?” Bones asks from beside him, still mimicking his position, laid out on his back with his legs flat on the ground and unable to see even the horizon, staring upwards. 

“Polaris,” Jim says, simply, letting his eyes stray from it a little to trace Ursa Minor’s path.

Bones snorts from beside him. “Kid, I’m not good at this stuff. I can’t even find the Big Dipper.”

“I think it’s too close to the horizon at this time of year,” Jim says, bringing his gaze down a little, but still not meeting the horizon – he isn’t here to look at that. That isn’t what he wants to see. “Alkaid – Mizar – Alioth.”

“What?”

“The stars I can see – they’re the ones that make up the handle,” Jim explains. “Come on, Bones, there are more constellations than just the Big Dipper.”

Bones huffs beside him. “I’m sorry, Jim. I was doing other things in my youth than staring at the sky. Useful things. Like sleeping – you should really try it some time. Hell, not just any time. There’s a specific time. It’s when the sky is dark. That’s when normal people go to sleep. That’s what I’d be doing right now if it weren’t for your sorry ass needing a bail at a very inopportune, inappropriate time.”

“You’re no fun,” Jim pouts.

“I hate you. I’m not going to be any fun.”

“But you can be,” Jim persists, blindly reaching for Bones’ upper arm and tugging on it. “Come on. I’ll help you find one. Try looking in between the two Dippers’ handles.”

Bones squints. “What am I looking for?” he asks, just going with the flow. 

“The dragon’s tail,” Jim answers, taking a little longer than normal to find the endpoint. When he thinks he has it, he elaborates, “Draco, Bones. He curls around, separates the two bears from each other…”

“Yeah,” Bones says, looking elsewhere. “I know. It’s too big and confusing, though. There are too many other stars around it.”

“It’s not that big,” Jim says, his eyes following the path of stars twisting themselves around the north’s celestial pole. “You’d go insane with Hydra.”

There’s a moment of silence before Bones quietly speaks up, “I found his head.”

“And?”

“Just the head, Jim.”

Jim completes the pattern and finds the group of four stars that form a rhombus. “You can find the head but not the tail?”

“I have an easier time with,” Bones starts, then backtracks. “Actually, no. It’s just – the camels. I have an easier time seeing the camels. The four surrounding that really dim star in the middle, like the mothers protecting the baby.” He focuses on the spot, afraid of being unable to find it again should he glance away. “For some reason that’s the only interpretation that does anything for me.”

Jim finds himself smiling, unexpectedly, as Bones says all of this. “Bones,” he says, and Bones can hear the giddiness in Jim’s voice, “I didn’t know you knew of that interpretation. What other secrets are you keeping from me?”

“Jim,” Bones says, his voice taking on a higher pitch in a little bit of mockery, “you may not notice what it is you’re saying, exactly, but sometimes, I do. And you talk about this stuff quite a bit. I figured that it wouldn’t hurt – nay, it would be beneficial – if I had some idea of what it was, exactly, you were going on about. I did a little bit of research.”

“I’m flattered that you would go to such an extent for me.”

“Half-assed research,” Bones amends. “Because it would be even more irritating to be around you than it already is otherwise.”

Jim smirks and lets his eyes wander further, making them lose focus so that he’s looking at a random swarm instead of the abstractions he already knows so well. Because sometimes he just wants to pretend it’s something entirely different, that he doesn’t already know, that he can look upon with a virgin gaze, so that it’s something new to explore. Maybe he’s the first to see this new starfield. He can map out his own asterisms, can decide what is interpreted as what, can make up his own stories for them…

“So,” Jim says, breaking the comfortable silence between the two. He glances over at Bones briefly, about the only thing he’s willing to look at instead of the night sky. “You can see Draco’s head. Anything else, Bones?”

“Um,” Bones replies. “Polaris. Maybe. They all kind of look the same.”

“They do not,” Jim huffs, “and anybody could find Polaris. Come on.”

“Lots of people can’t find Polaris,” Bones retorts. “Uh – I think I found Cassiopeia.” Before Jim can take advantage of the brief quiet moment that Bones has left for him, he confirms, “Yeah, yeah, it’s Cassiopeia. I have no problem finding her.”

Jim just rolls his eyes and looks back up, finding the constellation easily. “Okay, _everybody_ can find Cassiopeia, Bones. Don’t even try to argue your way out of that one. Come on, man, give me something else.”

“Cepheus,” Bones blurts out suddenly, catching Jim by surprise as he looks over to find the constellation himself.

“Really? Cepheus?” he asks, voice taking on a note of incredulity. “You can’t even be sure if you found Polaris but you can find _Cepheus_ , _just like that_?” 

The corners of Bones’ mouth quirk upwards a little. “Yeah,” he answers, voice a little gruff. “I identify with the story, a little. Jocelyn would make a perfect Cassiopeia,” Bones continues, his voice taking a bit of an amused tone to it. “Beautiful,” he says, a might wistful, “but far too vain and self-centred. Really full of herself. Completely overblown.” He pauses and his face returns to a more neutral expression as he appends, a little more quietly, “I just hope she doesn’t fuck up Joanna’s life.”

“So if your ex is Cassiopeia,” Jim says, trying to pass over Bones’ angst and stay in a territory he’s just a little more familiar with, “then Joanna is Andromeda – and you’re Cepheus.”

“Yeah,” Bones says, emotionless. “I guess.”

“Can you see Andromeda?” Jim asks, looking past Cepheus, past Cassiopeia, further to the right. “I think she’s out – or at least part of her.” He’ll admit to being a little thrown off by this one, but that’s just due to the… something. He’ll come up with an excuse when he needs one, which he doesn’t really think is going to happen, because really, nobody else probably cares as much as he does.

Bones takes a little while to respond, and when he does, all he can get out is, “I – I’m not quite sure where to look, Jim.”

Jim points out the general location, having found Alpheratz, her brightest star. “She’s over there, Bones,” he says. “You have to look a little further to the right.”

Jim continues to point, his arm wavering a little as he holds it up and attempts to keep it in place, while Bones continues to stare and search, his eyes roving over the area where he can see his friend’s finger vaguely gesturing towards. Several minutes pass before he chokes out, “I can’t find her, Jim. I can’t see her.” Jim just lowers his arm silently, no snide remarks this time, because he knows that this is about something even bigger than the constellation.

The silence – they’re used to the crickets’ sounds by now, hardly even notice them – swells and grows and becomes noticeably more awkward, approaching the levels that it had been for most of the trip up here. Jim drops his focus again, not even sure of where to look or what to search for, and instead starts using his mental faculties to try to find a topic of discussion, something else, something to distract Bones. Maybe. He hadn’t meant to find an element that personal in this.

But all he can come up with, after more minutes of just… quiet, is, “Hey.”

“What?” Bones asks, tone level.

“You believe in past lives?” Jim asks.

There’s a brief pause before Bones asks in return, a more confused pitch to his voice this time, “… What?”

“Past lives,” Jim repeats. “You know, like – like being reincarnated, or something. That you weren’t always Leonard McCoy, that before you were you, you were someone else. And before that, someone else, and before that… Maybe, once, you actually were Cepheus? Just trying to look out for your daughter, give her the best you possibly could… And after him, after going up there, you were born as someone else – maybe not another king, but, you know, that you once were. Do you believe in that kind of stuff?”

Bones stops and reflects on this. He’d only made the remark about finding some relation to the story in a brief, simple passing, not expecting anything to really come from it, especially since most of the stuff that he said always seemed to go straight over Jim’s head, or at least just in one ear and out the other. He’d only really taken notice of these particular stars because on the first anniversary that he knew Jim for, they’d gone out and gotten drunk together and Bones had been bitching so Jim had started going on about something he knew about and could ramble on about to try to distract him, and a few weeks later, when he’d sobered up, Bones had remembered some of what Jim had said, had finally disclosed a hidden passion of his, and he’d gone to Wikipedia and done some basic Google searching to find out a little more, so that the next time – if there was one – it would make a little more sense, or he could at least participate, or something. And he’d found the story of a braggart woman so unable to control her own mouth that she’d pissed off a god and was forced to sacrifice her daughter in order to save her and her husband’s land – because they were queen and king, and all. And Bones had seen it and in a fit of spite connected it through the association that if anything ever went wrong in his little girl’s life, it would be his ex-wife’s fault, that she would definitely be the reason for any misery Joanna would ever have to suffer. It had stuck with him but beyond that he hadn’t given it much thought.

Beyond that? He doesn’t know. “I don’t know,” he voices. “I’ve never thought about it before. I guess it’s possible, but,” and here he shrugs as best as someone who’s lying down with his hands behind his head can, “I sincerely doubt it.”

“Well,” Jim says, giving it a bit more thought himself, “maybe not someone famous, or super-important. Not like, a king or anything. But just – past lives. Maybe there’s a connection in there somewhere, like maybe your soul is always destined to be a doctor?” At this Bones shudders – no, he’s not cold, it’s not a shiver – because that means that he would have been one of those idiots who’d put leeches on people and inadvertently poisoned them with hemlock. “Or maybe,” Jim goes on, not noticing Bones’ reaction to his earlier thought, “it’s completely random. You’re just born and you live and you die and you’re reborn and it goes on like that.”

“Maybe,” Bones muses over it, lightly. “What about you?” he asks. “Do you believe in it?”

Jim continues to stare up at the night sky, blinking every now and then, and Bones returns his gaze to the heavens as well. “Yeah,” the younger man says, eventually. “I think I do. I’d like that – to know that once I lived, and I wasn’t a fuckup.”

“Maybe being a fuckup is your common thread.”

“Maybe,” Jim laughs. “I’d rather it not, though. What about just simple normalcy? Do you think that would be enough?”

“It’s really commonplace,” Bones says, “but who am I to say? Admit it, though: you want more than that. You _do_ want to have been kings and heads of state and just really important people in general. You’re larger than life, you’re drawn to great things,” and here he waves his hand up at the sky, sweeping it across stars that he doesn’t know the names of, but Jim does. “You’ve probably always had a natural talent for leadership.”

“So you do believe in the past lives theory, then, Bones?” Jim queries, deflecting from the raw, honest praise.

“I never said that,” Bones says. “That’s why I’ve been using words like ‘maybe’ and ‘probably’. Pay attention, kid.”

“So you don’t believe in it?”

“I never said that, either.”

“Hmm,” Jim says. He stares up at a small cloud, edging its way into his field of view. “Maybe the common thread is just a physical characteristic. Like maybe I’ve always had blue eyes, or you’ve had dark hair, or whatever.”

Bones takes his time breathing out his next breath, closes his eyes. The lateness – or earliness, whatever it is, of the morning – is starting to catch up with him. “I think genetics play a greater role in that than one’s eternal soul does, Jim.”

Jim glares at the cloud. “Oh, whatever,” he exhales. “If it’s even there then it’s probably all just random. If.”

At this Bones opens his eyes, props himself up a little on his elbows to get a better look at the man lying next to him. “Or maybe it’s something completely different,” he says. “Maybe it isn’t an individual thing – maybe there are co-dependencies strewn about. Humans are social animals, so it would make sense if our souls depended on one another. The idea of a soulmate. Maybe,” Bones lies back down, but keeps his eyes open; raising himself off of the ground woke him up a little more, “we’ve always been friends. That’s why this is so easy.”

Jim blinks, stops trying to make the cloud vanish with his accusatory stare. “Bones,” he ventures, a smile tugging at his lips, “did you just say we were soulmates?”

“No.”

“Oh, I think you did,” and Jim’s definitely grinning now.

Bones snorts. “No, you idiot. I said that maybe we’ve always been friends throughout all of your past lives or whatever the fuck it is you think has happened. I mentioned soulmates only as an example to the theory. Jesus.”

Jim just keeps on smiling as he looks back up at the stars, eyes abandoning the cloud and tracing around Cepheus’ shape. “That’s not what I heard,” he sing-songs, enjoying Bones’ flustering and the way he tries to sputter through his reasoning.

“You’re fucking impossible,” Bones snaps. “I can’t say one damn thing without—“

“Hey,” Jim interrupts, voice taking on a more soothing tone, “shut up, Bones. I’m just being a dick. Really, I appreciate the sentiment. Really.”

Bones crosses his arms over his chest and turns a little on his side; not enough to disrupt his view of the night sky, but enough to raise his back a little off of the ground and make him aware of just how wet it feels due to the cold (because it isn’t actually wet). “You’d better.”

“I do,” Jim says. “Really. Other people are really important to you, huh?”

A light breeze rolls through, ruffling Bones’ hair a little until he lies back down. “What gave you that idea?” he asks, voice dripping in sarcasm. “The fact that you’re the only person I seem to be able to associate with in a relationship outside of work?” He smiles bitterly. “Yeah, I’m a real people-person, Jim.”

“You just haven’t met the right people, then,” Jim says, softly.

“I think it’s a wonder I even have you,” Bones snarks right back. “Jim, I don’t work out so well with other people. That’s why I’m a surgeon. So I can stay behind the scenes, locked away for hours at a time, when the only times I have to talk to anyone else are strictly professional and not to the general public. At least as much as I can help it.”

“But you did talk to me,” Jim says, voice a little faint as he stares upwards and reaches for Bones’ hand. “Of your own free will.” His mind is flashing back to one of his earliest hospital visits since arriving in San Francisco, to his first meeting with Bones, his first lecture from him. “Have I ever thanked you for that?”

Bones grunts and shifts a little but he takes Jim’s hand in return still. “Yeah. You have. Quite a bit.”

“Did I ever mention that if it weren’t for that I’d probably be dead right now?”

“Um,” Bones says, and Jim feels the hand tighten around his own a little. “No. Not quite so directly, like that.” The breeze subsides and when it does Jim can feel Bones’ hand grasping his with a stronger grip. “If I hadn’t gone out of my way I might be dead right now, too,” he says at last, his voice unreadable.

Jim furrows his brow at this. “What?” he asks, not turning his head but looking over in Bones’ direction, even though all he can still see are stars. “Why?”

Bones gives a weird little laugh, somewhere in between being a laugh and a huff. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Jim, but I don’t exactly have a lot to live for. Not here, and I’ve got nowhere else to go. To someone of my disposition, it – doesn’t really bode all that well.”

“Bones,” Jim says, his voice upping just a little in terms of being frantic as he squeezes his hand back, “you… I… What about Joanna?”

“Her too,” Bones says, “but in case you hadn’t noticed, again, seeing as how you’ve never met her and all, I don’t exactly see her. Ever. Or really get the chance to talk. Her mother has full custody and she’s on the other side of the country anyway. I’m sure the news would reach her and she’d have to be put through a lot of shit that I’d never want to put her through, and anything else that could follow after… That’s why… But sometimes it just doesn’t really, I don’t even know.”

“Georgia isn’t _that_ far,” Jim near-whispers. “It—“

“Just stop, please.”

Jim shuts his mouth, refrains from going along that line of thought. It’s true though, he thinks, because at least they’re still in the same country. Still in the south, actually. The only real difference is the names of the oceans, or so he’d like to think, for Bones’ sake. But that’s all he does, is think, for once, because vocalizing it isn’t going to help.

The silence has returned to something a little more on the awkward scale of things, again, and just when Jim decides he really can’t tolerate any more of it and is about to say something else, Bones speaks up first. “What made you say that others were important to me?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Jim breathes out a little laugh. “You’re going to hate me for this, even more, probably, but,” he says, “your way of looking up, at the stars. How you wouldn’t see Draco’s tail, because it splits up the two bears, who were mother and son themselves. And how you wouldn’t even see the head as a dragon’s head, but instead the outdated idea that the stars were actually mother camels forming a protective ring around a baby one. I don’t know if it was intentional or what, with you, just – it seemed very geared towards family. You come across as misanthropic so often, but you really aren’t. You really do care, you just… don’t express it, really, so it only comes out in ways that only nuts like me would see.”

Bones focuses his attention back on the stars, looking up and seeing Cepheus and Cassiopeia side by side. “I guess,” is all he says, voice gruff.

“I left one out. You know that Andromeda is placed really close to her parents, as well, in the sky,” Jim says. “They’re still together up there. Don’t… Don’t worry about it too much, Bones. Something’ll happen in the near future, I bet. Until then you can’t do a whole lot else, just don’t dwell on it so much, just… Fuck, I don’t know. I’m just rambling.” He pauses. “She was supposed to have been really beautiful as well.”

“Jo is beautiful,” Bones says, quietly, but the harshness to his voice is gone and it sounds closer to reflective now. He withdraws his hand from Jim’s grasp and Jim lies his hand back down on the grass, threading through it a little to keep it occupied again.

Bones feels the absence of the touch as well, but it doesn’t bother him too much. He’s never been much of a touchy-feely kind of person, anyway; he’s all too used to closing himself off. He thinks he always has been, looking back on it, on everything, but on this in particular – he has kind of run away. Not like he had much else to do, he reasons, but he did go to a bit of a greater extent this time around to isolate himself. He isn’t sure why he did it, or why he still does it; why he can honestly say that Jim is probably the only person who actually knows him and cares about him.

Why he’s his only friend, and that’s why even on god awful days like these, or like yesterday if he wants to get technical, a fact of which he isn’t totally sure of, he’ll still rouse himself, dig himself out of his makeshift grave, swallow whatever it is that eats him up so easily and then spit it back out at Jim, who ends up taking it. He thinks that that probably makes him not too great of a person, to use his one friend as a verbal punching bag, but Jim seems to eat it up, anyway, desperate for any kind of attention, which is kind of horrible, but who is he to mess around with another’s issues when he has enough of his own to look at already anyway? Maybe that’s why this can work.

He brings his hands back together, reforms them into a makeshift pillow for his head. He’s tempted to close his eyes again, to just go to sleep, like he should be doing by now, for several hours, but Jim brought him out here. He stares up instead, then, and sees nothing intelligible, really, aside from a few marks here or there but other than that – is he that focused on his family? The one a couple thousand miles away from him? What he was saying earlier, was that really all that was keeping him?

He stares up and looks skywards, at the dots that don’t mean anything to him, that he can escape any subconsciously hidden meanings or whatever it is and just look at what it is that Jim likes. He doesn’t fully get it, but Jim doesn’t fully get his own passion for medicine, so he supposes that it evens out and he won’t really press the issue. And he isn’t above conceding the fact that it is, indeed, beautiful, if not a little boring – but every once in a while should be more than enough to remind himself of all of this. He can see a day in the future, years from now, when Joanna is older and there’s a meteor shower or something and he takes her out and they watch it together, or maybe he should bring Jim out with them as well, because even though it may be intruding on his time with his daughter, he knows Jim wants to meet her and Jim knows more about this sort of thing, anyway. The point is, he’d be looking up at the same sky, it would just mean more.

Not that this means nothing, because in spite of himself, Bones thinks that this is working out better than what his original plans were. Not that he wants Jim to keep on getting arrested, or anything, which is why he doesn’t vocalize this thought, but deep, deep, deep down, tonight he doesn’t really mind it as much as he’s let on. It still pisses him off, at the very least for the material damage to him and the interruption of whatever meager plans he did have, and at the very most because it’s not safe and it’s dangerous and he cares, a lot.

“Don’t you dare let this happen again,” Bones mumbles, accent coming out thicker as his eyelids feel heavy and he slurs the words a little, just grasping on to the edges of consciousness.

“Hmm?” Jim asks beside him, just as awake as ever, because he’s used to going days without sleep every now and then. And it’s not like – whatever time this is, it’s not like he’s a stranger to it. When Bones works this late he usually just goes home and sleeps the day off. If Jim is up this late then he just stays up and catches up on his sleep the next night. Or whenever.

“If you want to drag me out to places in the middle of the night,” Bones says, cracking his eyes open a little and turning his head to look at Jim; and Jim’s mirroring him and they make eye contact, “make sure I’m not going to have any reason to be pissed.”

They lie there, staring at one another, just letting their chests rise and fall as they breathe and look at each other; Jim’s eyes open wide and bright and awake and at complete attention, Bones’ lidded and just a little vacant but meeting them all the same.

“We should do something,” Jim says after a few moments. 

“We are doing something,” Bones says.

“I mean later,” Jim clarifies, “when you’ve had your sleep and aren’t going to be so pissy. At a time you’d deem sane. Or whatever.”

Bones rolls his neck back over, looks back up, sees that there are more clouds present now. “Alright. What?”

“I dunno,” Jim answers. “Something.”

“That’s not a real answer,” Bones snaps, as best he can in his near-drifting off state. “This is my trivial question. I answered your trivial question properly. Tell me what it is you’re thinking about.”

“I _dunno_ ,” Jim emphasizes, whines a little. “That’s why I said ‘something.’ And this is hardly fair – I asked you what time it was. That was an easy answer for you to give. It only had one right answer. Your question’s more subjective. Fuck you, this isn’t fair.” He’s acting like a selfish, spoiled brat now, and he knows it, but he enjoys regressing to a teenaged mentality every now and then.

“Life isn’t fair, kid,” Bones says, and he knows he’s smiling a little. “Tough shit. You’re the one that brought it up.”

“Um,” Jim says. “Seriously. I don’t know. Can’t we just meet up later – not today, I mean, I’m sure you’re just going to end up sleeping and I have work anyway—“

“Of course you do, that’s why we had to come out here.”

“—and decide then? That’s what usually ends up happening. Isn’t it?”

“Usually I don’t have to pick you up in the middle of the night—Well, that’s a lie, actually. Okay, usually I don’t have to pick you up from a place like _that_ ,” Bones says. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Yes you do.”

Bones rolls his eyes and ignores Jim, continuing on as if he hadn’t said anything. “I just want to know exactly what it is I’ll be getting myself into.”

“God, Bones, I said it would be during daylight hours, what else do you need?” Jim does his best to punch Bones lightly while still lying down. He manages to hit him in the forearm, definitely lightly, but still eliciting a soft growl from Bones that Jim just smiles at. “A public place? Would that satisfy you? Could you live with that?” Jim flips over on his side, completely, propping his head up with his hand, elbow digging into the ground, and stretching his legs out in the other direction. He’s just one growl away from batting his eyelids at his best friend.

Jim starts poking Bones in the side with his free hand and Bones glances over, rolls his eyes when he sees the kid, and closes them. “Oh, god, yes, please. It’s always better to meet up with strangers or just creepy people in general when there are others around. I know it wouldn’t deter you, but I might be able to cry out for help and actually get it in a timely and effective manner, one that will spare me.”

Jim laughs softly and stops poking. “You shouldn’t yell out in a movie theatre, it’s bad etiquette. Also it’s dark,” he says, grinning.

Bones’ face twists up a little. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Even though it’s Shitty Summer Movie Season, what you just said kind of ensured that I won’t follow you into any dark area now.”

“I’m sorry it isn’t Overly-Prestigious Oscar Movie Season,” Jim replies, losing his balance and flopping back over onto his back, “but hey, it will be soon. This year is just flashing right by. And we’re in a dark area right now. You followed my directions to get here, actually. You’re such a liar, Bones.”

Bones opens his eyes, slowly, and says, “This is different. I have a very easy means of escape out here. I can abandon you, just like that, and get away totally unscathed. Whereas anywhere else you’d probably find some way to latch on to me.” He jerks his arm away, sensing Jim reaching out for it, and follows up with a, “Don’t, damnit.” But Jim can hear the light teasing in the voice and he keeps stretching his own hand out until Bones swats it away.

“You seriously aren’t any fun.”

Bones stretches his limbs out a little and then pulls himself up. He remains sitting but brings his knees up to his chest and hugs them, a little cold. “You still haven’t answered the question.”

“Christ, you’re like a bloodhound.”

“You’re like a five-year-old.”

“Well, I don’t know what we can do,” Jim says, and Bones can hear the exaggerated pout in his voice, “since you said I’m not allowed to drink anymore. That severely limits our social activities, you know.”

“You can be the designated driver.”

“Oh, that’ll be great. Is this your revenge for being my chauffer tonight? I get to—“

“Yes,” Bones snaps under his breath, “because I’m a doctor, not a personal driver.”

“—take you around,” Jim continues, ignoring the older man, “my good friend, Leonard, and then I get to watch you, my good friend, Leonard, get drunk, while I sit there uselessly sipping at cranberry juice, which is gross by the way—“

“Nobody said you’d have to drink any.”

“—and looking like a complete fucking dork, and I’d look like more of a dork if I didn’t have anything to drink, so shut up, _Leonard_ —“

Bones finds himself smiling a little more. “I will not.”

“—and having to tell girls that I’m sorry, I can’t have a drunken one-night stand with you, I have to get this miserable drunk that is my best friend—“

“I’m actually a little amazed that you even remember the fact that I have a first name.”

“—back home, and never have drunken sex again—“

“Seriously, you introduce me to hot girls as _Bones_ and I just get weird stares from them. It’s hardly doing me any favours.”

“—because this jackass besides me, _Bones_ is his name,” Jim spits back out, looking up at his friend with a matching smile, “is making me drive him home. He seems to think that he owns me because he did some things for me, once, _years_ ago—“

Bones blinks. “I get to command you for years to come? This is a better scenario than what I had in mind. Thanks, Jim.”

“—so he’s given me very express orders that I have to carry out, lest he unleash his wrath upon me – and Jesus, Bones, shut up already – and he’s a vicious motherfucker whose bad side you don’t want to get on—“

“Damn right.”

“—because he has all kinds of freaky drugs and sedatives and shit at his disposal—“

“Which I—Wait, what? Jim, I wouldn’t do that. That’s completely unethical, I’d have to _steal_ – and then administer without consent in a situation that does not call for it… Damnit, Jim, I wouldn’t do something like that—“

“—and he’s super-sensitive and girly and shit so you couldn’t even really bring it up with him, because then he’d just start whining about it, because this guy, you can’t say anything remotely politically incorrect around him—“

“That’s hardly fair.”

“—and he’s even a giant hypocrite as well, he tells you life isn’t fair when you don’t get your way, but if he’s on the other end then he bitches about it.”

“You’ve made your point, Jim.”

Jim smiles cheekily. “Have I?” He pauses, thinks. “Seriously though, Bones, this could be good. You probably have a point with me. Don’t say anything,” he says, raising a finger up blindly to silence his friend, who he already knows has opened his mouth to say something snarky to that. Bones closes his mouth and looks at Jim, waits for him to continue, in fairly good spirits. “But it would probably be good for you, as well. I mean, the amounts… Just, Bones, I’m not drunk anymore. I know what I’m talking about.” He’s more serious now, delivering his words at a slower pace, really thinking them out first. “You’re stopping me before I get really bad – and really, Bones, I will, I’m going to – but I’d be a horrible friend – a horrible _person_ – if I didn’t do the same for you.”

Bones’ good spirits have faded out, just like that. He isn’t angry or upset by this sudden shift of tone, he just… is. He feels a coldness wash over him, bringing up memories, far away and recent, and deadens himself. It’s not the kind of coldness he shivers against or anything, not the kind that whips at him; rather, the kind that buries itself in him as he lets his fingers slip, no longer interlocking with one another around his knees; feels his limbs go loose and loses contact with his extremities, kind of. Jim’s sitting up now, cross-legged, arms hanging limply over his legs, looking at him. Bones looks away, down. “I’m okay,” he says.

“Now, maybe,” Jim agrees.

“No,” Bones says, “I’m okay. I didn’t—Nothing’s happened. Not even tonight, I didn’t—Forget it.”

“Why not tonight?” asks Jim, inquisitive but still remaining friendly and gentle about it. “What was tonight? Before I came along and fucked up your evening? Or day?” He edges a little closer. “Bones,” he says, softly, “what happened today?”

Bones stares at his shoes. “It’s not important.”

“It involves you, it’s important,” Jim says. “Come on – this is my serious question to you. What happened today?”

But Bones just remains silent. He looks down, down at the grass underneath him, at the grass at the base of the hill, at the grass at the base of another hill not too far off in the distance. He finally mutters, “You didn’t even answer my question.”

“This is more important. You bitch at me for hiding things, all the time, so when it’s you—“

“Please stop calling it important, Jim.”

“But it—“

“Please. I know it is. Just… not right now, okay?” he mumbles. He sits in silence, feeling the rough grass on his hands, the blades making their imprints as they continue to press on the soft, susceptible skin. Finally he looks back up at Jim, raises his head a little to do so. “You can still drink on special occasions, if you want.”

Jim mulls the statement over briefly, decides to take it and dig later, because his best friend is a little emotionally vulnerable right now and he doesn’t want to press it just yet. So he takes the deflection and builds up on it. “Such as?”

“The usuals,” Bones says, waving a hand flippantly. “Anniversary of my divorce, my kid’s birthday… Your birthday, if you still want to do that.” Jim’s birthday is hardly a happy topic, one the two don’t bring up much, because aside from the kid himself, not much good came out of it – and even then the kid himself ended up with a ridiculous amount of issues, some justified, some not, as a result of his first day of life. They usually do hide out in the hole Jim lives in while Jim completely numbs himself and Bones, if he can, joins in in sympathy. “Christmas, New Years’,” he picks up again, “St. Patrick’s Day.”

The blankness of Jim’s expression disappears immediately and his face lights up again at the mention of the last holiday. “Oh, thank god,” he says. “Seriously. I’m not ready to be sober the rest of my life, especially when it’s that day.”

“It would be a little much,” Bones grins, a little. He looks back up, skywards, and elbows Jim in the side. Jim looks at him a little quizzically.

“What?”

“You’re right,” Bones says, and Jim follows his gaze, seeing that the few gathering clouds have disappeared now. “It is beautiful. It really is nice out.”

Jim uncrosses his legs and leans back, putting his hands behind him for support. “You know, you could see the space station earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jim continues, staring upwards. “Not now, the timing isn’t right anymore, but – yeah, you could. From here it just looks like another star. A really, really bright star, but that’s all it is, a point of light. From here… You look up, earlier, last week, two weeks, and you could see this one star, this one really bright star, and it would come into view, and it’d be moving fast. Really, really fast. Like, as soon as you’d spot it it would be moving onwards, and that’s how you know it’s not actually a star, because no star moves that quickly. Sometimes it would be there and just gone, and sometimes you could just watch it travel across the sky for five minutes, six.”

Bones makes a light humming sound beside him. “You didn’t tell me about that.”

Jim cranes his neck back further, eliminating the horizon entirely from his line of sight, feeling increasingly relaxed as he thinks about it, keeps talking about it. “Sorry, man, I didn’t know if you’d… Yeah. It was pretty bright out when it came by, but you could still see it, like, you know how you can see the odd star sometimes in the morning? Kind of like that. Just a small spot that glows really, really brightly, so bright that you can notice it, even up against a lighter backdrop. If there was a cloud there, if it wasn’t too thick, you could even see it through the cloud. There are people up there,” he says, voice a little full of wonder.

“Forty years, Bones.”

Bones rolls his eyes because a little bit back, he’d heard a lot about that on the news, even though the first moon landing can hardly be considered news anymore. “That long, huh?” he says.

“That long,” Jim affirms. “Can you imagine sitting at home, watching that, the images, come in on your TV? Your crappy little black and white whatever? Just imagine that.”

“Mmm. Yeah. Never saw it, though. A nice reminder that I’m still younger than forty.”

“You’re hardly old, Bones.”

“Doesn’t feel like it. Especially when you call me that.”

“What would you rather have me call you?” Jim asks, lips quirking upwards. “Leonard? That’s hardly a youthful name. And the last time I called you ‘Lenny’ you punched me in the face.”

Bones smirks at the memory. “Sure did.”

“Hurt like a motherfucker, too,” Jim sighs. “See, I got lucky with my name. It’s easy to shorten and it doesn’t sound so retarded.” Bones snorts beside him, and Jim glares over. “Shut up. It’s true. You’re just jealous; even when I actually _am_ forty I’ll still be able to go by Jim and it won’t sound totally old but it won’t sound completely unfitting for my age either. It works perfectly.”

“I suppose it does, Jimmy.”

“Lenny.”

“Jimmy,” Bones repeats, breaking his gaze at the sky to glance over.

Jim just stares back up though, squinting, blurring his vision, letting one star – he isn’t sure which one – go in and out of focus as he stares up at it. “Nobody really calls me that anymore,” he mumbles. Bones watches Jim’s rarely-blinking gaze, his bright blue eyes watering up a little from whatever it is. “The last time someone called me that I—“

“Surprised you even used your real name,” Bones cuts in, looking back up as well. They’re silent for a moment, and then both lie back down on the grass simultaneously, getting the better look that they both want, copying the other’s position without knowing it, truly synchronized.

It’s quiet for a moment longer before Jim pipes back up, “Yeah, that was pretty stupid, wasn’t it?” And he laughs, a little self-deprecating. “I can’t believe I even…” Jim swallows. “I don’t think that outside of, like, this, I don’t think that I could really handle anyone calling me that again. In that… vicious, wanting, tone, I mean, I know I was asking for it, inviting it on myself, but—“

“You don’t need to talk about this,” Bones cuts in, again. He’s about as interested in hearing about the circumstances that lead up to his introduction to Jim at the hospital as Jim is in talking about them. Jim nods, a little.

“… Other than that,” he starts up again, “I think I burned all my bridges. Nobody back at home… You know, if they even talk about me, at all, which I’m just going to go ahead and doubt… But if they do, I doubt they refer to me as ‘Jimmy’, of all things. The name conjures up too much innocence. Too much… being a little kid. Too much—“

“It’s okay,” Bones says.

“No, it’s not,” Jim replies.

Bones doesn’t glance over. “You’re right, it’s not,” he says. “But it happened. Either go do something about it or quit bitching about it.” He closes his eyes for a moment, briefly massages his temples. “You don’t get anywhere by reminiscing all whiny and shit. And I kind of hate listening to you bemoan your lack of family when you were the one who chose to leave them.” Okay, so the last sentence is a little harsh, but really, Bones doesn’t need to listen to this.

Fortunately, it shuts Jim up. Bones feels a little guilty for the quiet, but Jim bounces back well enough, saying, “Can you imagine being up there,” and he wishes he could see the station now, but he was right earlier, that time is gone, “and looking down at Earth? You could see this spot, where we’re lying, from the stars’ perspective. You wouldn’t see any of this detail, any of these hills, but it would all be there – and the stars, they—“

“Would still just be points of light,” Bones finishes for him. “It’s not that far above Earth, Jim.”

“Not now,” Jim agrees, “but some day – some day, we’ll get out there. Don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Bones says. “But it’s a long time away. And until then, except for one, the stars are just dots.”

Jim looks up, gazes out across the entire expanse, as far and as much as he can see with the limited eyesight of a human being. “From here they are,” he agrees, “and from several other points in the universe. From way out there, Sol is just a dot. Just a meaningless, insignificant point of light. But we don’t find it insignificant at all; it’s all about perspective, Bones. And even from up as far we can get, you wouldn’t be able to see all of this. Probably just the ocean, really.” He smiles. “There aren’t any clouds to get in the way.”

“Nobody’s looking down on us right now.” Despite that Bones is still looking up, and while he may not appreciate the sights as much as Jim does, he does hold a certain love for it; otherwise, he wouldn’t still be out here. It has to have been… Well, it’s been a while by now. It’s so early in the morning that everything’s still dark and the stars still stand out clearly, and though they still look like just a random set to him, there’s still a lot to them, a complexity he knows that Jim is reaching for.

“Yeah,” Jim agrees. “But still, when it was—I can just, you know, being up there, Bones? You know that a ton of people are looking up at you, even though they can’t see you. And you’re looking down at them, even though you can’t see them. It’s still a uniting fascination. And you can see the planet, as a sphere, actually see how it curves, and it doesn’t look so flat like it does when you’re on it. It’s… something entirely different.”

Bones takes the words in, tries to think of what he can say to add on to that. All he can think of though are remarks closer to cynicism, which is okay, really, because those remarks just spur Jim on further, and Bones likes listening to Jim talk about all of this. His friend lapses into something, some kind of state or trance or whatever, and just talks, and he sounds happy when he does it. He sounds happy and relaxed and like he’s truly enjoying himself and he can forget about whatever shit it is that life has spit at him. But all he can say is, “It is what it is,” agreeing weakly. “Limitless,” he adds after a pause, finding a word he finds acceptable at last.

Jim takes in a deep breath, taking in the fairly clean night air, filling his lungs before emptying them again. “Yeah,” he says on the exhale. “Exactly. There’s so much…”

“Probably more than we’ll ever know about,” Bones says. “Things we can’t imagine at all, despite your best efforts to tell me to do so.”

Jim smiles at that. “That’s just because you don’t want to,” he says. “You never want to do anything I ask you to.”

“I usually have a good reason for that,” Bones replies. “I value my health, for one thing. Sanity too. I enjoy being physically and mentally intact. It’s very unpleasant otherwise.”

“You’re an ass,” Jim says, rolling his eyes and punching Bones lightly in the shoulder. “You enjoy my company and you know it. Quit bitching.”

“Quit hitting me.”

Jim laughs. “In answer to your question,” he says, and Bones leans up on his arms a little to look at Jim, “from before. Can we do this again?”

Bones flops back to the ground, undignified, and resumes looking up. He looks at all of the stars he doesn’t know, all beautiful in their own rights, probably even moreso up close if he could get there. All up against a dark backdrop, only visible in this time; the time he should be taking to sleep and rejuvenate himself and yet he hasn’t even attempted to do so since coming out here, because he’s found this to be a pretty brilliant therapy. There’s something warmer about his body now, something a little more full of life, even though he is kind of tired still. But he likes this.

So he says, “Yeah.” He blinks, and adds on, “But only when neither of us has anything to do the next day. I’m serious, Jim, you need to sleep more and I definitely need to be well-rested. I’ll make you crash at my place and I’ll sleep up against the door to make sure you don’t run away if I have to.”

“That’s fair,” Jim says. “I guess,” he appends, muttering, voice in a low tone, like a back-talking teenager too scared to actually raise his voice in fear of getting into more trouble for further smart assed remarks. “If you’re only looking out for the best for me, that is.”

“I always am,” Bones sighs. “Does this mean you’re ready to go, now?”

“Um,” Jim says, pauses. “No, not yet, if that’s okay. It’s just – it’s too nice out. It’s a little cool, yeah, but that only adds to the atmosphere, don’t you think? And it’s not raining or anything like that, and there are no clouds, and it’s still dark out, and I just… I wouldn’t tire of this. So… if you’re fine with it…”

“Yeah,” Bones says, a little gruffly, but that’s just because the word got caught in his throat. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m… kind of enjoying it as well.”

“That means so much coming from you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Jim stretches his arms up above his head a little, stretches his legs out underneath him, keeping his body awake as he keeps his eyes fully open and continues to look upwards. “Can you see Hercules, Bones?”

“What?” Bones asks, blinking. “Um. No. Where is he?”

“Standing on Draco’s head,” Jim supplies. “His body’s made up of four stars; they form a decently-sized rhombus, maybe twice the size of the head? Or something. And he’s got—“

“Jim,” Bones interrupts, sighing. “I’m not going to find him. I can hardly differentiate between anything out here. When I look up at the stars, I just see stars in a random mishmash; maybe I can point a few specific constellations out, maybe I can find the North Star, but that’s it. When you look up at the stars, it’s like you can see every little detail. You know every name, every constellation; can identify them on first sight with no effort. You know it all. I don’t.”

Jim grins at the praise, even if it is a little overblown. Rather than say that out loud, though, he just asks, “Cygnus?”

Bones groans. “What now? Were you even listening to me?”

“Nope,” Jim chirps. “It’s the swan. Or a cross. He’s really close to your man Cepheus. You see Deneb? Its brightest star? Is basically pointing right at him. Come on, you can find that, can’t you? I’m trying to teach you something here, Bones, cooperate with me.”

Bones remains silent, his eyes searching, finding the constellation he actually does know and looking for something bright near it. After a few moments, he says, “Uh – maybe,” because it’s the best he can do, to indulge, just a little, in something that’s pretty harmless. “I couldn’t say for certain. It doesn’t come to me as well as it does for you.”

“Pity,” Jim says. 

“What about something other than this?” Bones asks, waving his hand uselessly at the sky, trying to gear the conversation to something where Jim will stop showing him up and being such a smug bastard about it. “Something beyond these stars you can name and the constellations and whatever other thing you’re suddenly going to spring on me that I had no way of knowing about the night sky.”

“What do you have in mind, Bones?” Jim asks in return. “Like what? Other planets?”

“Sure,” Bones says. “Other planets – with other forms of life on them. Life we haven’t met yet, due to distance, or limits to our technologies, or—“

“So aliens.”

“Basically, yes.”

Jim lets the constellations drift out of focus. “Yeah, I’m sure they exist. How could they not? The universe is too big to only have one planet like ours that can actually support life; hell, maybe even out there there’s another kind of life, not the same as ours, with an entirely different composition and a completely different set of circumstances needed for survival.”

“I have a hard time envisioning that,” Bones says, “but I agree. I have a hard time seeing them as anything but human, or humanoid, at the least, too, though that could just be my knowledge of our anatomy getting in the way.”

“Nah,” Jim says, waving it off. “I can’t think of them any other way, either. Maybe we can be proven wrong some day, but until then, I dunno. At least anyone we make contact with should have opposable thumbs, or something. Some way of actually building technology…”

“Who’s to say they’ll have any?” Bones muses. “Maybe we’ll be the first ones to reach out, and first contact will be our own fault. They could not know anything. Maybe we’re the ones that are more advanced.”

“Or maybe they’ll be. Maybe it’ll be like some of those old movies, where they come along and decide to conquer us because we’re so weak and pitiful and easy. Or maybe we’d become allies of a sort, share with one another and learn new things, and it would be peaceful. That’d probably be best, though you have to admit, an alien invasion would be pretty cool. Especially if we’re on equal ground and have our own spaceships and, like, ray guns or phaser beams or something. Maybe that’s it – not with the fighting, or anything, but maybe we’re all just on equal ground, developing at equal rates, so when we do make contact we’ll be even on both sides, and do it simultaneously. There are a lot of maybes in this.”

“Of course there are,” Bones says. “This isn’t even a sure thing to begin with. It’s purely speculative.”

“Even so,” Jim replies. “There has to be more than one other thing out there, too. Maybe all three scenarios could happen, with all sorts of different outcomes, all at the same time, and at different times, because it has to be…”

“Limitless,” Bones supplies, again. “An infinite number of possibilities.”

“Yeah.”

“Like languages, and cultures,” Bones continues. “Even when and if we do make first contact, who’s to say we’ll even be able to understand them? That they’ll be able to understand us? That communication will be possible, at all? We could get absolutely nowhere.”

“Math is the universal language.”

“That’s assuming that they’d even use the same symbols as us, though.”

Jim blinks, gives pause, and then smiles at his inane thought. “Well, maybe, through sheer coincidence, their language will have developed in exactly the same way as English. Or Spanish, or any other number of languages we know here.” He hears the silence coming from Bones and suspects that his friend is staring at him incredulously. He glances over and finds his suspicions to be correct. “Well, it could happen. Don’t write it off so easily, Bones. Geez.”

“You are aware of how likely that is,” Bones says, tone flat.

“Hey, it could happen!”

“The odds are immense.”

“They’re _astronomical_.” Jim’s smile grows, and Bones punches him. Rather deservedly, he thinks. Jim seems to agree because he doesn’t really argue with that, just mutter, “Ow,” and rub at his arm, where he was hit. Bones snorts beside him.

“I was deliberately trying to avoid using that word,” he says.

“Tough shit,” Jim replies in a deeper voice, trying to mimic Bones. He rolls onto his side immediately after, just barely out of range from Bones’ fist, and giggles as he returns to his position. “You’re rather violent, Bones. The aliens might not appreciate that. You could be among the first to die.”

Bones rolls his eyes and returns his hands to underneath his head. “Or they could love it. They could absolutely adore me.”

“And then you’d introduce me, right?” Jim asks, voice bright and happy.

Bones finds himself rolling his eyes again, and if Jim doesn’t stop, he’s going to be very dizzy from just lying there before long. “So you could fuck one?”

“Well, yeah,” Jim says. “I feel I should be able to have sex with virtually every intelligent form of life. You know. See how it compares. Have fun. Life’s about having fun, isn’t it?”

“Farm animals weren’t enough for you?”

Jim coughs in response and Bones smiles lightly, the corners of his lips quirking upwards only a little. “You’re being an asshole again,” he mutters darkly. “Seriously. We’re having an intelligent conversation about what possible outcomes we could expect should we make contact with aliens and your mind goes straight to sex. Sex involving me, I might add.”

“Yes, Jim. That’s all I can think about. Every waking moment. It was just a brilliant opportunity to bring it up, come out and admit it, at long last. Because I know you’ve been having it frequently, and leaving me behind, still celibate for lo these many years.”

“Not _that_ frequently,” Jim complains. “And it’s your own fault if you can’t get laid. I’ve tried to help you. You aren’t having any of it.”

“Because you act like an immature, horny teenager who comes the second a hand drifts anywhere near your crotch,” Bones says, “and I thought I was long done with that embarrassing, completely and utterly stupid part of my life. I’m not letting you drag me back into it.”

“You were born thirty, Bones,” Jim says.

“Yes I was,” Bones agrees.

Silence descends again as the two men stare upwards at a sky that has yet to show signs of brightening and remains lit only by the glow of a scattering of stars, some much brighter and with a much more attention-grabbing attendance than others. Those are the ones that Jim can name, while Bones knows them about as well as the dimmest star right next to them that he can hardly even see or distinguish. Hell, Jim can probably even name the dimmer ones. The ones that don’t even have proper names. The smallest and most insignificant visible in the night sky, not leaving a single thing out. Bones doubts that it actually goes as far as this, but he wouldn’t be surprised, really.

It’s still dark and it’s still quiet and it’s still peaceful. The only signs of life around them are the crickets, they’re that far out, they’ve found a place so isolated. Bones can’t help but wonder if Jim has been out here before, based on the certainty with which Jim had directed him as they’d approached this destination; maybe it was coincidental, the direction he’d been driving in, and Jim had picked up on it. But probably not. Still.

“Have you done this before?” Bones asks Jim. “I don’t mean star gazing in general. It’s obvious you’ve done that. A lot,” he says. “But for the three years or so you’ve been living here, have you done this?”

There’s silence before Jim answers, softly, “No.” He shifts a little, getting himself a little more comfortable, before continuing. “Not for a while. Not since I left Iowa, actually, and that was… seven years ago, I think. Six or seven. Even then it wasn’t really… I haven’t had the chance to do this properly since, um, since the night I decided to leave home. So that was when I was sixteen.”

Bones already knew that particular fact, but he raises an eyebrow at the new information. “You went nine years without doing something like this?”

“Yeah,” Jim shrugs.

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Bones says, “that you love this sort of stuff. It’s what you live for; it’s the one thing that when I’ve heard you talking about it, you’re in complete bliss, as though nothing else matters and you’ve never been through anything remotely difficult in your life. And you haven’t looked up in nine years?”

“Well,” Jim starts, “it’s not like I _never_ looked up. I mean, obviously I have, but just… not for quite this long, or in quite this way. Like. Not really focusing on it, or taking the time to enjoy it, or anything like that, because I haven’t quite so much… _had_ the time to take. I’ve been busy. Trying to make ends meet, trying to stay alive, whatever, and it kind of… I just lost the opportunities and didn’t think anything of it because I had a lot of other things to think about. I think now I might be getting somewhere, um, stabilizing, so now I can? Honestly, I’ve forgotten how it feels. Makes me wish I could take back those wasted years.”

Bones makes a small sound next to him. “But you can’t,” he says quietly.

Jim sighs. “No… I can’t. Still, in the end? I don’t think I’d change a thing. I wouldn’t have met you if I hadn’t brought angst into my life. I’d say you’re more than worth it.”

Bones can only blink and stay silent, because he has no idea how to respond to a comment like that. He freezes up, really, and feels his limbs stiffen a little, as if he’d just been insulted, but it’s far from it. He doesn’t know why he reacts that way (well, he kind of does, but he just hasn’t addressed it and doesn’t really plan to). His silence prompts Jim further, to say, “You’re the first person I’ve ever even done this with.”

“Really?” Bones asks, and he knows it sounds stupid the second it leaves his mouth, but still, he’s a little shocked. Of course Jim hasn’t really had many people in his life; not a lot to care for him, at least, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t let anyone in on such an activity that Jim had first used as a method of escape that ended up becoming a little extreme. Still, though. 

“Yeah,” Jim says. “Like, you were talking about soulmates and whatever earlier? I don’t think I’ve ever felt any kind of connection before. Not something that makes me think that if I were to die, I’d actually be missed.”

“You were born in Iowa,” Bones says, “and I’m from Georgia. We both ended up here, but it was completely by chance.”

“Whether it was or not,” Jim mutters, “it happened, didn’t it? Bones, I’m not going to be offended if you don’t think it was worth it.”

Bones thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he says. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t like what came of it, because if it means moments like this, then I do. But I wasn’t ready to almost completely alienate myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim says.

“Me too,” Bones replies.

They’re quiet for a moment longer and it’s Bones who breaks the silence this time, hating it, feeling awkward and out of place and cold as long as it’s present. “We were lucky,” he says, because he’s in a dark mood now and not sure where to go with it. “We could have never met up. We could have been on opposite corners of the world. We might have seen each other in passing, once, and we might not have even been able to speak the same language.”

“We didn’t. None of that happened. Things worked out,” Jim says. “Please stop with the what if scenarios, Bones – that’s not the way things are going to go. It’s too late for those possibilities. Come on,” he nudges him, “cheer up a little. It’s still a beautiful, clear night. I’ve been going on – tell me what _you_ see for once, when you look up, huh?”

Bones tries to shake the coldness from himself, and he curls up a little to try to ward it off. “Uh,” he says, and the drawl is really starting to slip through now, Jim notices, “I don’t know what to tell you, Jim, I—“

“Just the first thing, Bones.”

“It’s nothing specific,” Bones says. “It’s just – dark. And there are stars. And that’s all I know, because I can’t see anything else. It’s a mystery to me. It’s foreign and I don’t really understand it, but I think I prefer it that way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Not knowing and just leaving it open to free interpretation, and not having to think about it any time I may happen to look up. I can get lost in it too, Jim, just not in the same way as you. Here, I don’t have to know everything. I get more enjoyment from just seeing, maybe knowing a little, but not too much. It leaves it free. Open.”

Jim muses over this a little. “Don’t you always want to know everything, though? You’re always talking about—“

“That’s different. You like the stars, and I prefer medicine. Not to mention,” he adds, “that I knowing everything there would be extremely helpful to the human race. Knowing the cure to something, something as insignificant as the common cold to something more lethal like cancer, that would—“

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Yes I did,” Bones says. “I got it right, didn’t I?”

“It was a lucky guess,” Jim mutters. “Don’t knock my thing, Bones. If it saved me, it’s probably saved others. And who knows, maybe out there, beyond what we can see, someone’s already discovered the cure for cancer. The cure for everything. We just have to meet them.”

“I’d like to think the diseases that plague us aren’t found so deep in space,” Bones says.

“Maybe not the actual cures, then,” Jim amends, “but the cures for something really similar. Something that you guys can build off on to find the cures for our sicknesses. If you can’t find the answer here, then maybe you can find it out there.”

“We’re several hundred years too early for that, Jim,” Bones says. “And even if we weren’t. Say that what you’re saying does happen, that we make contact with something out there and it knows how to fix everything. What if it doesn’t want to share its secrets? Or what if it can’t understand what we want?”

“We’d find a way to communicate,” Jim says, “eventually, I’m sure of it. Like when the Europeans first came over here. They found a way.”

Bones shivers a little because he actually is kind of cold out here. He’s pretty sure it’s the only thing really keeping him awake right now. “They also brought fatal diseases with them and completely fucked up people’s ways of life, ruining them and destroying cultures.” He smirks, a little amused at the idea of the tables being turned. “What if it is so disgusted with us and the way we treat each other and our planet that it just doesn’t want to help us?”

Jim stares thoughtfully upwards, not affected by the temperature at all (or if he is, he isn’t showing it). “Well, not _us_ ,” he says. “We’re good.” He grins. “It could be great, though, huh? To have some alien come down among us and tell us we’re doing it completely wrong. That discriminating amongst ourselves is illogical because we’re all essentially the same anyway.”

“Like it might be the drive we need to get people to get their heads out of their asses; to actually have the term ‘equal rights’ mean something?” Bones snorts. “Who knows. People are idiots and we progress at a painfully slow rate. I doubt that threats would speed things up.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they won’t come here first,” Jim grins. “They’ll skip over us and go to a country that respects everything and everyone and has never done anything wrong. Like… Oh, I don’t know. Canada? They don’t do anything up there, do they?”

“Jim, America is pretty unavoidable,” Bones says. “They’d hear about us and see us and the clusterfuck we’re perpetually in. We’re too loud to avoid. If they went to some other country first we’d be flocking over there and bitching all the way about being ignored.” He frowns in thought. “There are worse places, though. They could end up in the Middle East first.”

“Oh, Christ,” Jim brings his hand up to his face, allows it to drag down it slowly. “Maybe by the time we do make contact, we’ll have stopped all of this nonsense. How long do you think that’s going to take?”

Bones looks over at him. “Are you serious? It’ll never end.”

Jim rolls over to his side a little to stare back at his friend. “God, Bones, you are the _definition_ of cynical. Come on. You don’t actually think that, do you?”

Bones breaks the direct eye contact. He pauses before replying, “I’m… not sure. I’d like to think not, but at the same time—“

“Come on, Bones. There’s us, and there are more people like us out there, and with each generation we’re getting more and more accepting. We’ll get there,” Jim says, flopping back over onto his back and spreading his arms out as he does so. “Maybe there are aliens that have already found us and simply aren’t doing anything, just waiting for us to get our shit together and stop squabbling over petty differences and starting wars all the time.”

“It’s possible,” Bones shrugs, still looking at Jim’s side. “Or maybe they’re waiting for us to advance further, technologically. So that we can actually _can_ talk to them. Or go out first into space to actually meet them.”

“It makes sense, really,” Jim says. “We really should be developing on our own. We don’t really want things handed over to us; we want to prove ourselves. Prove that we’re intelligent enough to do it on our own. That we’re worthy and capable on our own, and we are, really. It wouldn’t be fair if it was just handed to us, would it? We’ve done so much on our own already, it would cheapen it…”

“Or maybe they don’t exist at all and we really are alone in the universe.”

“Jesus, Bones. _Cynic._ ”

“What?” Bones asks, tone a little defensive. “I’m just speculating. That’s what we’ve been doing with all of this, starting our sentences with the word ‘maybe’ and only guessing at things. This is just another possibility with as much merit as anything of the other ones.”

“No it’s not,” Jim snaps. “The universe is too big. We’re not alone.”

“Right now we are,” Bones mutters. Jim looks over at him.

“Fine, but right now, _we_ aren’t,” he says. “Maybe we were, before. That’s changed. There’s no reason the same change can’t happen for the entire planet. It’s just a natural progression of things.”

“Maybe,” Bones says, and Jim smiles. He punches Bones playfully.

“That’s better than a flat-out ‘no’,” he replies. 

They’re both quiet for a moment before Bones changes the subject. “Are you seriously not cold?”

“Maybe a little,” Jim shrugs, “but no, not really. Why? You are?”

“Hell yes,” Bones snaps back. “It’s fucking freezing. Why am I even out here?”

“’cause the view is pretty,” Jim replies.

Bones rolls his eyes. “And what view would that be, exactly?”

“Depends on which one you’re willing to admit to,” comes the easy reply. Bones groans and Jim smirks. “And because you said you didn’t mind it,” he continues. “You said that you were actually enjoying yourself out here.”

“I can enjoy myself but still be a little physically uncomfortable,” Bones says.

“That’s very good to know.”

“Jesus Christ, shut _up_ ,” growls Bones. Jim’s grin only grows, not that his friend sees it. He stares upwards, focusing on beyond what he can see, beyond what any of them can see. Out, beyond the solar system, beyond the constellations that they know and that he knows so well, to some far-off world that may or may not exist. For all he knows, somebody is looking back at him, and their eyes are meeting, and neither of them know it just because of the distance. Maybe that’ll be the case if he turns his gaze a little to the right. Maybe not, maybe it has to stay where it is. In either case, it’s highly unlikely.

Still, it’s possible. Jim likes to think that it’s the truth though, regardless of what the truth actually is, just to know that he was right. He likes to think of a future where they can talk to others, where they can all learn from one another, where his world is united and it’s united with the rest of the universe as well. Where there are nothing but good times to be had and fuckups like himself don’t ruin it for anyone, because there are no fuckups anymore.

He doesn’t voice this aloud, though, because he knows that Bones would just snort and roll his eyes at the notion and tell Jim he’s being overly optimistic, and while optimism is good, there is a certain extent before it becomes unbearably annoying. That and the fact that while he’d like to believe it, Jim is pretty sure himself that it’ll never get quite _that_ good.

But maybe troubles like his and Bones’ will become obsolete. Some day. He can appreciate his, to a certain extent, because it only shows him just how special the friendship he now has is. And it might be horrible for people to not have it proven to them just how incredible things can be, by first having lived through worse things. At the same time, it’s not exactly like he wants to see anyone go through such hardships. Not people he cares about, not total strangers, maybe a little bit for those he hates. He is only human, after all.

He definitely does wish that things had worked out better for Bones, though. He isn’t so selfish that he wants Bones’ life to have been a complete fuck up (from what he’s gathered from his friend, and Bones does tend to have a bit of an extreme self-loathing streak, so who really knows what the true extent of damage is) just so that they could meet. Jim really does wish that Bones was happier. He might have ended up moving out to San Francisco anyway. Who knows.

“It really is a beautiful feeling,” Bones murmurs beside him, and if his voice had been any louder, he’d have startled Jim. Instead it’s a soft tone, possibly even bordering on bliss. “Out here,” he adds on, “aside from the cold, but even that can be kind of refreshing.”

“Hmm?” Jim hums in response, still looking up at the night sky, not wanting to break eye contact. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bones says. “I should be asleep right now, but surprisingly enough, I think I’m happier that I’m not. I’d have been warmer at home, but I wouldn’t be feeling so… so…”

“Serene?” Jim supplies.

Bones blinks a little blearily beside him. “Serene. Yeah,” he accepts the word. “That’s it, exactly. I don’t think I’ve felt quite this relaxed in a while.”

“Bones,” Jim says.

Bones murmurs something, too light and unintelligible for Jim to pick it up and understand him.

“Bones,” Jim repeats. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Two people died under my care today. Yesterday.”

Jim silently sucks in a breath. He finally breaks eye contact, turning over to look at Bones, who is staring upwards, still. At what, Jim doesn’t know, doesn’t ask. It probably isn’t too important. It’s probably just the stars. Empty, meaningless balls of plasma held together by gravity. Undefined, free matter with a constant, infinite force. His eyes aren’t too focused, anyway.

“Well,” Bones starts back up again, and Jim isn’t sure as to whether or not Bones is actually aware of his presence, “maybe just one person. I guess it depends on your definition. I don’t know. An expectant mother.”

“Oh,” Jim says, dumbly, because he isn’t sure what to say. He’s getting his answer to his important question, finally, and he isn’t sure what to do with it.

Bones curls up a little tighter. “Yeah, ‘oh’,” he says. “I guess that might be what I’d say, too. If I wasn’t there, that is. If I didn’t have my hands buried deep in someone’s insides, the only thing separating me from blood and guts and human tissue being some latex.” His voice grows a little flatter which each passing word. “Damnit, Jim, I go in there to save people. I don’t go in there only for things to fuck up. Not so I can have the sound of a flatline punctuating someone’s life and playing out through my head still, hours later.”

Jim shifts over, a little closer to his friend. “I’m sorry, Bones,” he says softly.

“I can’t get rid of the sound. I don’t know why. It just keeps coming back every few hours. I should be used to it by now.”

“No you shouldn’t,” Jim interrupts. “You should never get used to death, Bones. It’s good that you react like this, as distressing as it may be. It shows you’re a good person.”

Bones remains silent, still beside him. His chest rises and falls evenly, and Jim’s thankful for that, but he’s not thankful for the lack of response. Maybe Bones is just tossing the idea around in his head, but whatever. He adds on, “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

“How do you know that?” Bones asks. “I don’t even know that. Maybe something I did completely fucked things up. Maybe I’m a genuine murderer dozens of time over because I screw up because I don’t know what I’m doing. Or I just don’t care. Or. I don’t even know. How do you know if I don’t know?” he demands, voice becoming a little more strained.

“First off,” Jim says, and he moves even closer, reaches for Bones’ hand again and closes the space between them, hopefully making Bones feel a little less cold, “you clearly do care. That’s why you’re stressing out over this so badly. Second, Bones, you’re not incompetent. If you were then you’d be out of a job. But you’re not. You haven’t been for years.” He takes a deeper breath before continuing. “And okay. Okay, you’re right on one of those counts. Maybe you did do something that resulted in death. I don’t know that, but neither do you, apparently, so you need to stop beating yourself up over it. Please. I don’t like it when you do that.

“You’re not a murderer, Bones. You don’t cause death. It happens because it gets away from you, not because you want it to happen. You never do anything bad like that intentionally. You’re a good person, okay? You’re a great person. I understand if you need to let this out sometimes, but I’m just scared that you’re really letting it get to you. That you’re actually believing it. Please, Bones, don’t,” and Jim finds himself reduced to pleading desperately. 

Bones doesn’t react, at first, but then he shifts his head over a little and sees Jim beside him, so close, and with a bit of panic in his gaze, one that matches the voice that Bones had heard and was absorbing, whether or not the words were actually meaning anything to him. “I don’t know,” he says, turning his gaze away again. “It’s not like it happens every single day. It’s not like I experience it every time. I just… don’t know,” he sighs.

“Sometimes I just can’t help but think that each time it happens, it’s another nail in my coffin. The flatline is really just the sound of it being hammered in. I mean, I’m not perfect, Jim. I’m far from it if previous events are any indication,” he laughs mirthlessly. “Maybe it’s all just subconscious.”

“It’s not,” Jim says beside him. “It’s not conscious. It’s not subconscious. It just is. It happens. You can’t control it every time, Bones, and when you do, you’re making it so that the best happens. You may not be perfect, but you’re still a good person. You don’t kill people. You don’t hurt people.”

“Yes I do,” Bones mutters. “I push people away from me all the time to spare them. You know that you seriously are the one friend I have in my life, right? That you have been for three years now? That before that, there was nobody? Before that, there was somebody, but I completely fucked that up.”

“No you didn’t,” Jim says. “No. Don’t open your mouth, Bones, you didn’t. I know that I wasn’t there, and I know that I don’t know all of the details, but that doesn’t mean you were the one who completely fucked things up. You couldn’t have been. It takes two people to fight. It’s never just one person’s fault. She must have hurt you, too.”

“Yet she was the one that ended up with everything.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Jim replies, trying to keep his voice more gentle, more soothing, to combat the roughness around the edges of Bones’. “Lawyers suck. The law sucks, Bones, I know this first hand.” He thinks he might be seeing Bones smile briefly at that, and it lifts his spirits a little. “Did you let her take everything? Did she get a better lawyer? Whatever it was that happened, Bones, it was not because you’re a bad person. It was not because you deserved it.”

Bones stares skywards. Rather than speaking to Jim directly, he just says, quietly, “I still think about offing myself, sometimes.”

The statement was just loud enough for Jim to hear, considering his close proximity to his best friend. “Bones, don’t.”

“I’m not going to,” Bones replies.

“But you think about it.”

“Sometimes. But that’s it. I don’t go beyond thinking. Because then I think about what could happen after, and I see an empty funeral home. I see a traumatized nine-year-old girl, I see her mother doing her best to hold herself together for both their sakes, and I see you, and after that, I know that they go back to the east and I don’t know what happens to you. I’m not going to do anything, Jim, I promise you that.”

Jim blinks. His lips are parted a little and he can’t feel his fingertips. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Earlier, you said that—“

“Okay, I did, but…” Jim exhales, part in exasperation, part in fear. “I didn’t… You… What do you want me to say, Bones? What do you want me to do? You openly worry about me all the time, you’re constantly looking out for me; am I not allowed to do the same for you? Please, just, I,” he stumbles in his speech and closes his eyes.

“Shh,” Bones hums, and Jim opens his eyes again to see Bones’ gaze on him. “Jim, don’t worry about it. You have enough to focus on already. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

Jim locks onto the gaze, the set of eyes looking back at him more alert, now. “Can I trust your word? You say that you’re okay. How do I know this? How do—Bones, why are you even out here? Your family is back in Georgia. You moved across the entire country on your own. That tells me that you don’t deal very well, that you—“

“So I ran away,” Bones interrupts, voice clearer and more confident until he rolls his head back over to stare upwards. “I know. I had to, though. She got full custody, I got no visitation rights. There was nothing left for me back there. I had to go, Jim.”

“This far?” Jim asks, unable to look skywards. “Across the country, Bones? Why?”

Bones is silent for a moment. Back in his home, he knows that the sky is the same one, so he keeps looking at it, even though he knows that by now, over there, it’s bright out and these stars and constellations and their stories aren’t visible. Finally, he answers, “I couldn’t be near them. I just… couldn’t. I couldn’t be near that area. I can’t tell you why, exactly, I ended up here, Jim, I just did. And it’s far enough for me.

“I know I’ve abandoned my little girl, and I know you disapprove of that. You don’t have to say it.” Jim swallows back his words, because it’s true, he does, and he can’t help but think about how awful – and at the same time, a little comforting, and how much sense does _that_ make – that there’s a part of Bones he hates for something that was in Bones’ control, just like there’s a part of Bones that hates Jim for something that was in Jim’s control. “I know that she’s growing up, that she isn’t going to know her father, and probably isn’t even going to try to contact me when she turns eighteen. I know that it’s almost completely my fault. If I could go back, I’d fix it. I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Jim mumbles. “You could find a way. You could try harder, push harder, you—“

“Are you ever going to go back to your family?” Bones cuts in. “Are you ever going to go back to Iowa, Jim?”

Jim still finds his fingertips feeling icy, but he regains control of his hand again and slides it out of the loose hold he’d had on Bones’. “No,” he says, “but that’s different.”

“How?”

The younger man pauses, hesitates, and rolls his own head back over to stare upwards and try to find some solace in the same characters he’s known for most of his life. “I don’t know. You won’t tell me any of the specifics. I can’t compare; I don’t know how different they are from my own.”

“Same here,” Bones says. “You won’t tell me everything there is to know about your life before you came here. I don’t think you should. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I believe that some things should be kept private. I don’t want to know everything there is to know about your past, because I don’t necessarily want you to know everything that there is to know about mine.” Like his father. He’s never told Jim about his father; not Jim and not anyone else. It’s not information he’s ever going to share. Even ignoring the fact that it’s still a touchy subject surrounded by legal complications, it’s still a little too much for him, personally.

He’d been distraught enough after it to let almost everything else fall from his focus, to let all of reality other than the cold, impersonal area of work (and wasn’t that just great, that all he could focus on was medicine) slip from his grasp, until he didn’t know what was happening and everything had come crashing down around him. And with no suitable excuse to give, no desire to vocalize it, needing to hold it in himself only in the hopes that he could stuff it down; he had nothing, because he had no defences, he had no arguments, he had no justifications, and he had no awareness.

It wasn’t the sole reason for moving out so far, but it was definitely a major player in his decision, and it’s one he’s going to keep to himself, because it isn’t something he can exactly share with anyone, no matter how much trust comes between them. Bones blinks, trying to avoid giving any hints away in his expression, even though he knows that’s hardly possible. “Is that reasonable?”

Jim is silent beside him before he replies, “Yeah. It is.” He wants to know, now, but he knows better than to try to pry and dig where he isn’t wanted, and he doesn’t want to push it. Bones knows a fair amount about his childhood already, but Jim never mentioned a brother to him. He doesn’t really plan to. Not for as long as he’s going to have a secret kept from him, and even then, maybe. Or maybe not, he isn’t really sure. It could probably spill out at any moment, like most other things have, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be something even more touchy than those other things. Or maybe it is. Jim can’t tell, is confused on the subject, and so is much more content to let it drift away.

“But when you say you’re okay,” he speaks up again, first, “how do I know, for sure? You’ve been saying it tonight, but then you…” Jim finds himself unwilling to say the words.

“I don’t have any tells?” Bones asks, and it sounds like genuine shock in his voice, that Jim can’t help but smile a little at. “Look. I am, really. If you get concerned you can bust my door down and violate my personal space all you want until you’re certain, but really, Jim, it’s never anything more than thoughts. It’s nothing to worry about, I swear. I’m too busy being concerned for you,” and Jim _knows_ he can hear an upturn in the tone of Bones’ voice, as it gets a little higher in mirth, and he finds himself breathing a little easier.

“You were concerned about my drinking earlier?” Bones questions, and Jim nods as best he can, even though his friend isn’t even looking at him. Maybe he sees it out of his peripheral vision, or he just already knows the answer, or whatever, but Bones takes it and keeps going. “Fair enough, considering the fuss I raised over yours. I’m sober about three and a half weeks now, Jim, despite whatever’s happened in those three and a half weeks. I do mean it when I say I’m okay. I’m more trustworthy than you are.”

“You’re an ass,” Jim replies. “Even when you’re pouring your heart out to me you can’t help but insult me.”

“And yet we’re still friends,” Bones lightly muses; drawls, really.

Jim glances over. “Of course,” he says. “And you really are okay?”

“Yes,” Bones sighs, then pauses for a moment before continuing, and the two of them are, for a moment, reminded of the crickets. “While we’re being all emotional, here,” he says, “I’d like to return to the first point of the night.”

“You want another hug?”

“God, no. Don’t come anywhere near me. No, I’m talking about how I put up bail money for you for the second time tonight.”

Jim huffs. “Bones, you’ll get your money back. You know you will. You did the first time. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Bones says, “but that’s not everything. I need to know that it isn’t going to happen again. Period. I seriously can’t keep doing this for you. I don’t want to enable you anymore, for one thing, and the next time, I _am_ going to leave you in there.” And there he goes, stewing about in uncertainties again, because he really isn’t sure if that’s true. “Tonight’s been nice, I’m not going to dispute that. It’s been a good outlet, however much I’ve just put you on your toes because I’m too tired to filter my thoughts out properly, though it’s probably for the best ultimately. But if you catch me on another day like what I had yesterday then it’s not going to happen. I need sleep and I need warmth.”

“You know that now I’m just waiting for the day when you do something stupid and I have to bail you out, right?”

Bones smiles at that. “Don’t hold your breath, kid.” Jim punches him lightly in the arm and Bones makes a move to repeat the motion, but is a little off because he’s still looking upwards at a cloud-free, star-speckled sky. “No. But really. That aside, one of these days it just isn’t going to be a possibility for me.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asks.

“I know that by this point it’s a very tired phrase, and it pisses everyone off, but _in this economy_ …” Bones trails off, and Jim groans, and Bones is in somewhat good spirits before he goes back to his point. “Really, though, Jim. I may be a doctor, but I’m not exactly a millionaire. I still have alimony, child support, a mortgage, living expenses, bills, some student loans. I pay for all of that by getting blood on my hands, digging through people’s guts and staring at their insides. I’m willing to help you out, but not if it’s for stupid shit you got yourself into in the first place. If I’m going to earn money this way, then I want it to go somewhere good.”

Jim drums his fingers against the dirt a little and drags them through the dry grass. “I do appreciate it, though,” he says, finally.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Bones says, “at the very least. Because if you didn’t—“

“I get it,” Jim replies, “I get it. You’re very unrelenting on this topic. Ah,” he says when he anticipates Bones about to speak up again, “don’t start. I know you have good reason to be. I’m not blaming you for it. I’m just making an observation. You want me to do something for you in return?”

“Can you?” Bones snorts. 

“Probably not, but go with me for a second here,” Jim says. He raises his hand and it feels a little light, as though it isn’t his, and it’s a phantom, as he gently guides it, tracing around constellations’ figures. Maybe Bones can see his finger pointing as he moves it along, against the night sky, maybe not. “I’ll go up there. I’ll go up there, Bones, and I’ll connect the dots for you. I’ll trace their outlines. Then you’ll be able to find them, all of them. You can find Cepheus and Cassiopeia; I’ll make sure you can see Andromeda, and with her, Perseus and Pegasus, all of them. You can find the Big Dipper, I’ll make sure that you can see all of Ursa Major and with her, her child, Ursa Minor. I’ll help you find the fainter ones, Lynx and Camelopardalis. I’ll show you Boötes, who keeps the sky turning. I’ll show you Hercules standing over a vanquished Draco; alternatively, I’ll show you what those mother camels are protecting the baby from, whichever way you choose to interpret it. I’ll go up there and trace them all out for you. You’ll be able to see them. No problems, no confusion, just them.”

Bones reflects on this for a little while, following Jim’s finger as best he can as it travels around, tracing out whichever constellations he can find in the section of night sky they have opened up above them, where they don’t have to move and can just look up and see a small sampling of what’s there. Finally, he says, “You’ll probably piss a lot of people off by filling the sky with lines instead of just leaving it to the imagination.”

“I’d piss everyone in the world off if it meant doing something for you,” Jim replies, even, tracing Cepheus’ crown. 

Bones blinks, but at least he can figure out what Jim is doing with his hand right now; it’s one thing that he can actually follow. “Uh,” he says after a little bit. “Thanks.”

“Anything I can do,” Jim mutters, again, letting his hand flop to the ground, slowly, not fighting the air resistance and allowing it to descend with some grace. 

“You can’t actually do that, though,” Bones replies, speaking out of the corner of his mouth, just staring upwards. “I’m sure I don’t have to relay the impossibilities of it to you, even if we could travel that far out into space. I’m sure you know them better than I do.”

“I do,” Jim says, “and I know. That’s why I told you to go with me for a second.”

“I did. I bought it for a moment, that you could actually do that. For a moment. Then you started talking about what you could do, and damnit, as beautiful as the idea may seem, it isn’t actually something you can do.”

“I can go up there, though,” Jim says. He blinks, his eyes staying shut a moment too long to properly call it such, but he isn’t falling asleep. He’s regrouping himself, still gazing upwards at the neverending, still-dark expanse. “Maybe not as far out. Maybe not to meet anyone. Maybe not to push out and see what there is beyond our night sky. But I can still go up there.”

Bones furrows his brow, tries to determine what it is that’s being said. The ground is hard beneath him, but it’s something he’s adjusted to, because it has to have been at least a couple of hours by now, amazingly enough. Just him and Jim and the stars that them, only them, he’d like to think right now, have been looking at and discussing, as if they weren’t there, as if they were and they were a part of them. Instead, though, he simply asks, “Jim?”

“Bones,” Jim replies. “I’m going to do it. I’m not going to give you reason to worry over me anymore. I have a direction. I’ve been reminded of all this and I’m going to go. I’m going to escape Earth’s atmosphere, I’m going to experience weightlessness, I’m going to be the one looking down when so many are looking up at me, a fast, bright star in the sky. It isn’t an every day phenomenon, yet, but I’m going to work for it so that I can go up, at the least.”

“You’re going to become an astronaut?”

“Yeah.”

“Jim, do you know how much work—“

“Yeah, I know, Bones. But I can do the work. I’m smart and I can handle a big workload with no problems. I finished high school early; I left early. I skipped university, I did a bit of trade school, but I can go back to a higher education. Someone out there has to be giving a scholarship for brilliant runaways and fuckups, right?” He smirks. “I mean, they have scholarships for everything nowadays. I’ll go back and I’ll do everything, all of the sciences, and I’ll blow the scores out of the water, make up for the few mild infractions on my record, and never collect another one again.”

Bones tears his gaze away from the night sky to look at his best friend’s face instead. It’s focused, his eyes are clear and sharp and focused, and he’s completely serious in what he’s saying. It’s a good thing to hear, if not a little wistful, a little too optimistic, and Bones figures he might best be put to use by playing devil’s advocate, by trying to push Jim and see how serious he is about this, but he already has a fairly good feeling that Jim means everything he’s saying. The kid’s always had a pretty strong conviction.

“You know how selective it is, right? You know the chances of being picked for the program?”

“Yeah. I looked into a little, before, way back, and I still remember some of it. I’m going to look into it a little more because I do have time, and I need to work a little more, anyway, save up the money. And that’s why I’m really going to put all my energy into it. I’m going to be outstanding. It’s going to be incredible. I’m finally going to go for it, try to learn everything I can, every little bit that’s going to help.”

“It’ll take you years to even get to the stage where you’ll even be able to apply…”

Jim turns his head to the side and locks eyes with Bones, who’s already boring his eyes into him. If there had been any doubts for either of them before, they’re gone now. “I know it’s going to take time, Bones,” Jim says, and he cracks a light smile, despite his now-serious attitude, “but I’m not going to give up on this. I’m going to go out there. I need to – nothing else is going to feel right.”

Bones doesn’t smile. He feels his eyelids growing heavier, the few sounds around him that haven’t already completely faded into the background doing so now, his world growing darker. It’s comforting to hear Jim putting this sort of plan together, however realistic it is or not (though he’s sure the kid will find some way of making it all work out anyway). It’s nice to think there won’t be any more slip ups, but Jim attracts drama, or he creates it for himself, so he doubts it’s going to go as smoothly as his friend’s words are indicating. Still, he’ll be there as long as he can to keep pushing him in the right direction; maybe he already has, starting with this night, in which he’d just assumed he was enabling.

It’s calming, though, to feel like it’s gone in the completely opposite direction. It was calming to spout off with some of his doubts, something he’s sure the night air and the lack of sleep made him do, and while not really solved – and it probably never will be, fully – it feels relieving to have one other person, especially if that person is Jim, aware of some parts of it. It’s like he can breathe easier now, freer, and he feels his consciousness slip away and sleep starting to claim him.

“You’d have to move away,” he murmurs, almost into the ground.

Bones barely catches Jim’s response as he replies, “Yeah,” lightly, without much conviction, and then there’s nothing but a blackness with nothing present to break it up and no stories to be told in it.

Jim sits himself up a little further, watching the even rising and falling of his friend’s chest. He’d check the time himself but there’s no light and he doesn’t want to wake Bones; he’s kept him awake long enough, if in a fit of selfishness or whatever it was, really. Probably not, because the enjoyment was mutual. A night well-spent and still ongoing.

He should sleep but he can’t. As long as they’re out here, at least one of them should be awake.

He takes on that responsibility and looks out and around at the area for the first time.

It’s empty. It’s quiet. It’s full of nothing, which is a little surprising, but if it were twelve hours later, in the afternoon instead of the early morning, it would probably be full of something. It’d probably be more dangerous, really, than it is now. The peaceful atmosphere probably wouldn’t be present, and while the stars definitely would be – they never go away – they wouldn’t be there for him, for them, to see. 

He can see them up close already, through the internet, through an image search, but it isn’t the same thing. It’s not what he wants and he feels like he can, like he _should_ go beyond that. And he’s going to. He’s going to know what it looks like, what it feels like, to see the entirety of Earth fly out underneath him as he circles it. He isn’t going to watch a simulation. Simulations are useless. He’s going to see the real thing. He’s going to experience the real thing.

Jim’s palms rub up against the grass a little, and there are probably imprints on his hands, faint little indentations on slightly reddened skin, and it’s still a little cold, but he feels warm enough. It’s warmer here than elsewhere. But the slight chill feels appropriate. The feeling of earth beneath him doesn’t. 

California might be far enough away from Georgia for Bones, but it isn’t far away enough from Iowa for Jim. No place on Earth is. It isn’t about getting away, though. If he wanted to do that then he’d have done it years ago, before any of this (and he’s so thankful that he did not, because then he never would have experienced this, and it’s not something he wants to give up). It just isn’t something that feels right to him. Being grounded isn’t right.

He’s seen the limitless, observed it, tried to memorize it as best he can, and has done a pretty good job of it. Now it’s time to actually go and experience it. He can do this. Jim is going to reach the stars; failure is not an option when he knows he’s so capable of it. He has a strong drive and a strong direction.

And he has them.

Jim has no idea how long it’s been. He feels like it’s been endless, in a good way, a portion of time and space frozen just for him and Bones only with no repercussions, just a soothing period for them to use however they wanted, and they did it, just by enjoying one another’s company and words against a backdrop of indulging Jim with whatever it is he likes. Bones is happy, he’s admitted as much. Jim is beyond delighted. He just isn’t outright expressing it, because it’s quiet, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

What ruins it is when he relaxes his neck, feeling the crick in it building and growing and actually becoming a great discomfort, and lowers his head, letting the support for it take a break against the strain of having to hold it up so he can do nothing but look skywards for a night, and that’s when he sees the horizon. Finally. And it’s growing lighter. It isn’t too light, not yet, but there’s a gradient starting to form, a medium blue where he’s looking that fades into darkness, but soon it’ll be a light blue fading to a medium, and then everything’s going to be gone. Draco’s tail is already starting to disappear.

So, fuck. Because the night hasn’t been frozen, and the stars’ positions have changed from their perspectives, and time has passed, and the Earth has continued to rotate. And it might be time to call it an end, now.

Which is a shame.

He prods Bones, persistent, annoying, unrelenting, and Bones’ eyes suddenly snap open and he rolls onto his side to see what exactly it is prodding him and it takes a little bit before his eyes really open up in recognition and he’s more awake.

“Hey,” Jim says, a small smile on his lips.

Bones blinks a few times but remains lying down, looking up at Jim. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, slowly.

“If I was the one saying that you’d roll your eyes and say it wasn’t possible.”

“Yeah, but for me it is,” Bones replies, voice easy. “But. No. Really. If you do need help, financially, I mean, because that’s probably the only way I’m going to be able to help you on this endeavour, then just ask. Just ask and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Jim says, “but no, Bones. I don’t want to have to keep leeching off you my whole life. This is my own enterprise.” Bones sits up a little at this, and Jim finds himself basking in the company. “There’s still one thing you can do for me, though. A little later on, but not much, to help me out.”

“What’s that?”

“Come with me.”

It’s silent and Bones blinks and sits upright further, his eyes level with Jim’s. He mouths the phrase, repeating Jim’s words silently, to himself, and then he just stares. It’s a little uncomfortable.

“Come with you,” Bones repeats, aloud.

“Yes,” Jim says. “Up there. Come with me up there. Join me. We’ve spent the night looking at them together, we’ll go for a closer view together.”

Bones blinks, turns his gaze skywards again for a moment before looking back at Jim. “I can’t,” he says, his voice soft.

“Sure you can,” Jim says, and instead of a more playful, encouraging tone, his voice is bordering on desperation. He can hear it, he knows that Bones can hear it, and it’s painful. “You’re a doctor. You know things. You’re in good physical condition. You’re getting years of in-field experience. You could do it. You could make it.”

“No,” Bones replies simply.

“Yes,” Jim says. “Please, Bones.”

Bones drops his eyes to the ground, not really wanting to look at the expression on Jim’s face; not with this. His fingers tread through the grass and dirt and he watches that instead. “I can’t, Jim,” he says to the ground. “I can’t do that. I can’t just up and leave—I’ve done it before, I can’t do it again, not to such a—It’s dangerous, damnit, and as much as I may not have here—“

“But that’s just it!” Jim cries out. “You said it. You said it earlier. I hate to bring this up, but you said. You said that if it hadn’t been for me you might be dead by now. Bones. Bones. Please.” He’s fighting to keep his voice level, and he’s actually succeeding, for the most part, against all odds. 

Bones sighs, and it’s tired, and world-weary, and he doesn’t know what to say. “As much as I’ve—I may have run, Jim, but I couldn’t go that far. Something could happen. Here, on Earth, or up there. There could be a burn up. I don’t want to fear myself getting ripped apart like that, my entire being just… With no body, with nothing, I don’t want to—It could happen, damnit. It could happen. It has happened. It and a million other scenarios, and even if everything goes right, then I’ll be up there for so long, too long, and I can’t keep shifting around like this, and it’s not… I can’t do something like that, Jim. It’s unrealistic. I can’t.”

Jim stares at his friend, the one person he’s really been able to connect properly with in his life. He looks but the gaze is neutral. He isn’t accusing, he’s on this side of pleading and begging, but he isn’t holding any of Bones’ words against him. They’re there and coming out and they make sense in their own way. But still. “I… can,” Jim finally says, weakly.

“You can. And that’s good,” Bones murmurs, and he keeps on looking downwards. “But I can’t. It’s good that you can, and I want you to, because it’s what’s going to make you happy, but I…”

He’s silent, and then he finally looks up, and they actually look at one another again. “I’ll miss you,” Bones finishes, lamely.

“I’ll still be here for another few years,” Jim says. “Education. University. First trying to save up money. And then I’ll still be in the country, mostly in the south, and it’ll be a while yet before I go up… And then… There are still ways of communicating. Yeah? It’s better than it was forty years ago. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bones agrees. 

“Teleportation would be nice.”

“Teleportation,” Bones says, sitting up a little straighter now, “isn’t feasible. Not without a shitload more work put into it, at the absolute least. They’d have to pull all of your atoms from one place to another, in the exact same form, without losing anything, because otherwise you’d pretty much just die. And who’s to say if it would be the real you, if it wouldn’t just clone you or—“

“So someday it’ll happen,” Jim says. He pauses. “It’s just too bad that it isn’t our day.”

“Maybe it will be.”

Jim blinks, his own turn to be incredulous. “Bones,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips, “that sounded like optimism for a moment there.”

“Fuck off,” Bones growls, and Jim’s smile only grows brighter. Then he looks up and it falters.

“Fuck,” Jim mutters.

Bones cocks his head. “What?”

“How does it get so fucking bright so fucking fast?” Jim spits out. Maybe the odd, particularly bright star is still there. Maybe Deneb. Possibly Vega. More likely Arcturus. Most likely Sol. “Seriously, one moment it’s still a decent level of darkness, and then not five minutes later everything’s bright and you can see everything. How the fuck does that happen?”

The corners of Bones’ mouth quirk upwards a little. “Just the way the world ends up working, Jim,” he says. “It’s summertime. It tends to happen.”

“We’re coming out here in the fucking winter, Bones, I don’t care how cold you think it’s going to be,” Jim snaps. “Because at least that’ll be when it stays dark for an actually decent amount of time and the fucking sun doesn’t sneak up on you like such a selfish prick and overtake everything else in the sky. Goddamnit, man.” He stretches his legs out, kicks at the ground as best he can whilst still sitting down on the hilltop. “Get a new sky for you to look at, too. You could find Orion, couldn’t you, Bones?”

“If I can’t then I’m sure you’ll show me,” Bones replies, “along with more than I’d ever thought of knowing.” He stands up, stretches a hand out towards Jim. “Come on, kid. I think we’re done here, now.”

The birds are chirping and it’s definitely much louder now, and much brighter, and Jim spits on the ground as he lets Bones help pull him up. “Fucking sun, seriously.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The two make their way back down the hill, to where Bones’ car still is, still waiting, and probably a little cold now, but with the new day and the warmth it always ends up bringing, it’s sure to reach a comfortable temperature fast enough. The walk down is easier than the walk up, gravity working in their favour, and because Jim isn’t tired and Bones was able to get a little nap in, neither stumbles and they both walk comfortably, although partway down Jim does start to uncontrollably pick up speed. 

The silence between them has reached comfortable levels again. It’s been shifting back and forth the whole night, but ultimately, nothing has changed, as Jim walks around to the passenger side and Bones unlocks the thing and gets in and Jim follows and the engine is brought back to life, several good hours from when it last had been. Seatbelts are done up and Bones starts driving again, pulling them back onto the road, which is still empty so rejoining the defined pathways isn’t an issue.

Jim rests the side of his head against the window and rubs at his eyes a little while Bones focuses on the spot in front of him, heading back out into civilization. Nature fades away at a less abrupt pace than the stars did, and Jim is a little spiteful towards that. He looks out the side of the vehicle; shifts his eyes to the front where his friend is looking, seeing the dotted lines just before the car covers that distance and goes over them.

It’s still quiet, not yet busy, really. It’s still early enough for that. He has things to do later today, but for now, he’s out here. He was out here. They were out here. They talked and nothing between them really changed but it was a worthwhile experience regardless. So maybe it was a good thing that he got himself arrested for public drunkenness, Bones’ lecturing and points aside.

Jim stares out in the same direction as Bones until he can’t take it anymore. He shuts his eyes, though he isn’t going to sleep.

“It’s too fucking bright out,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” comes the reply, “it is.”


End file.
